A/N: Thanks for all of the reviews and faves! Your continued support means a lot to me. In case you missed them, I posted two side-stories this week, one of them about Grant and Jemma's time in Italy. So go check those out, if you like!
Thanks for reading and, as always, please be gentle if you review!
It only takes four hours on the Bus for Grant to start wishing he and Jemma had stayed in Italy. That's because, four hours in, HQ contacts them with a new mission.
They're to infiltrate a base in Siberia, where a SHIELD agent is undercover with what Coulson calls "very unpleasant people." That's all the detail they get—unpleasant people in Siberia. The rest is above their clearance level, and it's not that Grant minds it, not after all these years, it's just.
It's just that he's had difficulty pulling himself away from Jemma for more than half an hour. He's not sure he's ready to leave Jemma behind on the Bus and go into the field—although it's better than having to bring her into the field—and it would be nice to know why he's doing it.
Still, a mission's a mission, and their mission is to pull the SHIELD agent—Andrew Shaw—out of the base.
"I'll let them capture me," Coulson decides during the briefing. "Shaw's undercover as an interrogator, so they'll bring me straight to him."
He taps at the table computer and pulls up a blueprint of the base.
"Once I've been captured, Ward and May will infiltrate the base. Take out the guards and clear an exit path for us. We need to move quickly, before word can filter down from the top that Shaw's a traitor. Any questions?"
As far as plans go, it could use some work, and Grant can tell that May's not happy about it. This would be easier if they had more detail, but such is the nature of compartmentalized security. Grant's job is to nod in agreement and do what he's told, but he's kind of gotten used to the way Coulson runs things, so he can't help pointing out the flaw in the plan.
"And if they decide to just kill you on the spot, sir?" he asks.
"Then you'll stop them," Coulson says. It's not an order—he says it blithely, like it's obvious. Like there's no question that Grant will have his back.
He will, of course. He doesn't know why the tone makes him so uneasy.
After informing them that they'll arrive in Siberia in three hours, Coulson dismisses the briefing, and Grant follows Jemma down to the lab. He's mostly left her and Fitz alone for the last few hours, aside from occasionally checking in to see how she's doing with the flight. She seems to be all right being back on the Bus, despite everything, and he's relieved. Still, if he's about to have to leave her behind for however long this mission takes, he wants to get some time with her now.
Jemma doesn't say anything when he takes a seat in the corner of the lab, and, surprisingly, neither does Fitz. He doesn't even roll his eyes or make a face, and Grant takes it as more evidence that the engineer has finally warmed up to him. He's glad, and not just because Fitz's constant sniping at him was starting to get on his nerves.
It's not long before Skye joins them, taking a seat at the counter with her laptop and getting to work doing…something. He should probably be worried about it, since she's clearly hacking and there's nothing mission-related to get into, which means it's recreational hacking, but…he's not.
The lab remains in comfortable silence for a while, until Fitz and Jemma begin to discuss a project Fitz is working on, something called an I-Mine. Grant's about to ask about it, as from the specs Fitz has on the holotable it looks like the explosive kind of mine, but Skye breaks in before he gets the chance.
"Sure you wouldn't rather work on the You-Yours?" she jokes.
Somehow, this begins a conversation consisting solely of puns which, when he doesn't contribute, turns into a "make Ward laugh" competition. Jemma stays out of it, which is lucky, since he has a hard enough time keeping a smile off of his face around her even when she's not trying. As it is, it's difficult to maintain his composure as the puns get progressively more ridiculous.
He almost breaks when Skye tells him that a steak pun is a rare medium well done, partly because of the overly solemn look on her face as she says it, but he's rescued by Coulson's appearance in the cargo bay.
Grant can't imagine what Garrett's reaction would be if he walked in on his team having a pun competition, but Coulson just looks amused.
"Sorry to interrupt," he says. "But we're landing in five. FitzSimmons, we're gonna need the sleds."
"Right away, sir," Jemma says brightly. She starts to head for the storage area, but pauses and turns to point at Grant. "By the way, taking a gun to your watch is not an acceptable way to kill time."
Grant snorts with laughter and Jemma nods, satisfied, and continues on her way.
"Oh, that's cheating!" Skye hollers after her.
He shakes his head and stands. As amusing as this has been, it's time to get to work. He needs to change into his tactical gear and grab a few extra mags from the closet in the briefing room.
"No, seriously, that doesn't count," Skye insists as he leaves the lab. "She has an unfair advantage!"
x
Surprisingly enough, the plan goes off pretty well. Grant and May wait just out of range of the guards, until they hear through Coulson's comm that he's being taken to 'the Interrogator'. Then they take out the guards and infiltrate the base.
There aren't many guards in the underground base, and the few that they do come across are easy enough to take out. Whoever this group is, they don't train their people very well.
It's not long before they're right outside the door to the room where Coulson's being held, and once they hear him tip off Shaw, they move in. Grant takes the guard in the corner down in two moves, and the others don't have any trouble, either. He's starting to get a little concerned—for this group to draw SHIELD's attention, they must be a major threat, but the poorly trained operatives they've encountered so far wouldn't threaten a convenience store.
So what do they have that necessitates sending a SHIELD agent undercover?
He'll probably never know.
Coulson motions Grant to lead the way up the ladder, which he does. He keeps an eye out for any movement as he helps Coulson and Shaw up—in the interest of keeping it, he refrains from offering his hand to May—but there's no sign of any perimeter guards.
Once Shaw is out, they move to the sleds.
"Uh, where are the dogs?" Shaw shouts over the wind.
"Don't be ridiculous," Coulson says, and activates his sled. May does the same.
The sleds are one of Fitz's inventions, and they use a track tethered to the Bus to move. They require steering to get to the original destination, but returning to the Bus takes only a push of a button—a helpful feature, if whoever's using the sled is too injured to steer. Or see.
It's only minutes before they're back in the Bus. The whole mission took maybe forty minutes, but it was long enough that Grant's relieved to see Jemma waiting in the cargo bay. He can't kiss her with everyone around, especially when 'everyone' includes an outsider, so he contents himself with standing as close to her as possible. He's really going to have to do something about this inability to be separated from her, or he's going to be completely useless.
"So," Coulson says to Shaw as the four of them shake the snow off of their boots and Fitz moves to check the sleds. "You have the information on you?"
"In me," Shaw corrects. There's a brief, concerned pause before he clarifies, "It's on a flash drive in my nasal passage."
"Can you get it out?" Coulson asks.
"Not without a doctor."
All eyes go to Jemma, who smiles pleasantly. "Agent Shaw, you can take a seat in the lab. I'll go get my kit."
She sounds perfectly unconcerned, apparently not the least bit grossed out that she's about to extract something from Shaw's nose. Grant, on the other hand, is disgusted. He's not typically a squeamish guy (aversion to autopsies aside) but he definitely doesn't want to see that.
So he heads upstairs with the rest of the team.
"Wheels up in three," May tells him as Fitz and Skye sit down near a window.
"Where are we headed?" he asks. He didn't hear Coulson give her any orders in the cargo bay, so she must have been told their next destination on the flight to Siberia.
"The Hub," she says over her shoulder as she continues to the cockpit.
Great. That means he's going to have to wear a suit.
After depositing his vest in his bunk and returning his unused mags to the small arms closet (he didn't use his guns at all on this mission), he takes a seat in the lounge with his tablet. He's still working on his incident report from last week's mission, and while, in light of the circumstances, Coulson gave him an extension, he'd like to get it done. Especially since they're headed to the Hub, where they will doubtlessly be questioned about all of the missions they've undertaken on this assignment.
He's trying to think of a justification for his actions that doesn't include the word 'soulmate' when Coulson comes upstairs, followed by Jemma. Grant gets to his feet, curious to find out exactly what information Shaw had that was so important he felt the need to shove it up his nose to keep it.
Fitz and Skye both offer to look at the data, but Coulson brushes them off.
"I'm afraid this mission's classified," he says. "Clearance level eight."
Oh, well. If the information is classified level eight, at least it explains why they're going to the Hub. He turns to retake his seat, but of course Skye's not going to let it go so easy.
"He can just shut us out of the process like that?" she asks.
"Well, he did say the mission is level eight," Fitz points out.
"And we're not, so we can't know about it," Jemma finishes brightly.
"Right, but this is usually the part where we all stand around the holocom, and we learn about stuff," Skye argues. "I mean, aren't we all on the same team?"
"No need to get started on one of your socialist riffs," Fitz says.
May smiles a little, earning her a disbelieving look from Skye.
"Yeah, SHIELD's whole infrastructure is based on the hierarchy and compartmentalization of intelligence," Jemma explains.
"Every agent can't have the intel on every mission," Grant clarifies, then follows Jemma and Fitz back down to the lab.
It's a twelve hour flight to the Hub, which will put them there around 8 am, Bus time. He'll be glad to get some sleep on the way, since he's still on Italian time, and it's currently three in the morning there. That is, if he can sleep. After spending four nights holding Jemma, he doesn't know how he's going to do without her.
More importantly, though, he doesn't know how she's going to do. Last night was a good night, sure, but there's no guarantee that this night will be, and he won't be there to wake her up if she has a nightmare. He can't be.
He thinks Jemma might be worried about it, too, the way she's puttering around the lab. He can tell she's not really doing anything, and she has to be exhausted, too, but she makes no move to head upstairs to bed.
He gives her an hour, but once she starts yawning he pulls her away from her workstation.
"You should go to bed," he says. "It's four in the morning in Italy."
"Oh, I will," she assures him, but she doesn't meet his eyes. "I just wanted to finish this up, first."
She tries to turn away, but he puts his hands on her shoulders to keep her in place.
"Jemma," he says gently. "You've been cleaning that microscope for the past twenty minutes."
She takes a deep breath and looks away, towards Fitz, who's pretending not to listen.
"You worried about nightmares?" Grant asks quietly.
She nods. He rubs his thumbs along her collarbones as he considers the situation. Coulson made it very clear, weeks ago, that he expects Grant and Jemma to remain professional at all times while they're on the Bus. Sharing a bed, even without sex, is not at all professional. But is he willing to abandon Jemma to her nightmares in the name of following orders?
No. Of course he's not.
"Come on," he says, letting go of her shoulders to take one of her hands. He leads her upstairs, and she starts shaking her head.
"Grant, I really don't think—" she starts, but breaks off when he comes to a stop outside of his bunk.
"I won't tell if you won't," he says.
She darts a look at his bunk, then glances around the lounge like she's expecting to find Coulson lying in wait. Then she smiles, just a little.
"Let me go brush my teeth," she says.
"Right behind you," he agrees. He watches her head for her bunk to get her toothbrush, and then ducks into his own to do the same—and to double check that the window shade is pulled down.
x
Sharing the bed in his bunk is a complicated process. The bed is so tiny that their only options are for one of them to squish against the wall or for Jemma to lie pretty much on top of Grant. They choose the second option, and it's not that he minds it—she's tiny, she basically weighs nothing—but it's not as comfortable as stretching out. Still, it's worth the slight discomfort to have her there. Especially as she does, in fact, have a nightmare.
It's a lot milder than the one from the other night, but it's still enough to leave her shaking and crying. He mentally curses the Chitauri in every language he knows and rubs her back soothingly as she cries into his chest.
When her tears stop (which, thankfully, only takes a few minutes), he tucks some of her hair behind her ear.
"Wanna talk about it?"
She rearranges herself so her head is pillowed on his shoulder and begins tracing patterns on his chest with her right hand. "It wasn't nearly so bad this time. None of the rest of you were in danger. You weren't even there. It was just me, falling. Nothing like the other dreams."
"Still pretty scary, though," he observes.
"Yes," she agrees quietly.
"Think you can get back to sleep?"
She tilts her head thoughtfully. "Mm, I think so."
She's still tracing patterns on his skin, and if she keeps it up he's going to have his own problems, so he catches up her wrist and, impulsively, lifts it to press a kiss to her timer.
"Sweet dreams," he says quietly.
"You, too."
x
She sleeps well for the rest of the night, and she doesn't even twitch when his alarm goes off to wake him for his morning training. He's tempted to just ignore it and go back to sleep, enjoy having her sleeping peacefully on top of him, but he's skipped way too many work outs in the last week. Also, he's willing to bet that Skye didn't even look at the punching bag while he was gone, and he needs to be there to make sure she does her morning training.
It takes some careful maneuvering in the cramped space of his bunk, but he's eventually able to slide out from under Jemma and resettle her on the bed. He changes into his workout clothes quickly and tucks his socks into his sneakers. He'll put them on in the lounge; he doesn't want to sit on the bed and risk waking Jemma. Still, he can't resist the urge to brush some of her hair away from her face when he pulls the covers up to her shoulders.
He spends a moment just enjoying the sight of her in his bed, then slips out of his bunk and pulls the door shut behind him.
After a brief stop in the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and put on his shoes, he heads down to the cargo bay. It's strange to do his training without Jemma sitting on the stairs or bustling around the lab. He doesn't like it.
Once again, it's not long before he starts itching to go find Jemma and make sure she's okay. He reminds himself that they're on the Bus, in flight, and that absolutely no one could have gotten on to hurt her. She hasn't been anywhere near alien artifacts or suspicious bodies or anything that could put her at risk of infection. She spent the last eight hours sleeping in his arms.
She's fine. He has to accept that she's fine and that letting her out of his sight won't change that, or he's never going to be able to do his job.
So he forces himself to stay downstairs and finish his training, even though he can barely breathe with how worried he is about Jemma. It becomes a mantra—she's fine, she's fine, she's fine—as he goes through his routine. And as he leads Skye through hers, once she comes downstairs. It takes extreme strength of will, but he doesn't even cut the session short. He makes Skye do every last push-up she's supposed to, even as he bites at the inside of his cheek to keep himself from repeating his mantra aloud.
The pain helps a bit, helps him focus, and he manages not to run up the stairs when Skye's training is finally done. He even lets her go up them first, and he somehow keeps his steps casual as he heads for his bunk.
He slides the door open to find Jemma still in bed, exactly as he left her, and his tension melts away instantly. She looks so peaceful and so lovely that he hates to disturb her, but she really needs to get up—for one thing, they'll be at the Hub soon, and for another, she can't get caught sleeping in his bunk.
He really doesn't think anyone else on the team will appreciate the sight the way he does.
x
An hour later, they've landed in the Hub and are making their way to the lobby to pick up their badges from the security desk. After a brief thanks for the rescue, Shaw split from them in the hangar, and headed for the Security Division for a debrief.
As they approach the main lobby, Grant sticks close to Jemma's side and listens silently as she and Fitz exchange incomprehensible babble about what they're hoping to see in the Tech Corridor. Her whole face is lit up in excitement, and he smiles to see it. He's not fond of the Hub, and not just because of the annoying dress code, but he's glad she's happy.
Skye has been staring around in shock, and as they reach the security desk, she finally shakes it off enough to speak.
"Didn't realize Big Brother was this…big," she says.
"Oh, this is nothing," Jemma assures her cheerfully. "Wait until you see the Triskelion."
"Everyone's wearing the same suit," Skye points out. Grant rolls his eyes. "Someone tell me why, please."
They all ignore the request as they take their security badges from the desk. Skye moves forward to speak to Coulson, and Jemma turns to look at Grant.
"So," she says, sliding her hand into his. "You know that Fitz and I are anticipating visiting the Tech Corridor. What will you be doing while we're here?"
He squeezes her hand a little, happy to have the contact—even if he can see Marcus Wright, an old classmate from the Academy, staring in shock at the sight of Grant Ward holding hands with someone. He's pretty sure Wright would faint from sheer surprise if Grant smiled at him, but he resists the urge. (He never used to be such a troublemaker. He blames Coulson.)
"I'll probably join you," he finally says. "Not much for me here."
"You don't want to visit the Security Division and see what sort of weapons they're working on?" Fitz asks, surprised.
"Security's never as eager to share their toys as Tech is," he tells him, then returns his attention to Jemma. "I might drop by the Ops center, see if anything's on, but other than that…"
"Well, you're welcome to join us," she assures him happily.
Actually, it's not necessary for him to drop by the Ops center, because that's exactly where Coulson leads them. Jasper Sitwell is waiting for them outside the security checkpoint, and seeing him is like having a bucket of cold water thrown into his face.
It's not like Grant's forgotten that he's working for HYDRA, or that he's technically spying on the team. Of course not. It's his mission, and his mission is his focus. It's just that, in the wake of everything that's happened recently, he's let it…slide, a little. He hasn't even attempted to increase Coulson or May's trust in him. For the last week, he hasn't been concerned with anything but Jemma's well-being.
Seeing Sitwell, someone he knows is HYDRA (although Sitwell doesn't know the same about him) is a stark reminder of what exactly he's doing here. It takes a few seconds for him to regain his calm, and he tunes in to the conversation to hear Sitwell saying that he and May are welcome to join the briefing. Which means they're expected to join the briefing.
He squeezes Jemma's hand once and lets go. "Have fun in Tech."
"We will," she promises. "Enjoy your briefing."
"Not likely," he tells her, then follows May into the Ops center.
Coulson doubles back briefly to speak to Skye, who attempts to follow them and gets caught in the checkpoint, and then they proceed silently to the situation room.
Victoria Hand is waiting for them, and after brief introductions, she gets straight to business.
"The intel you recovered from Agent Shaw tells us that a separatist group from South Ossetia has built a weapon called esbitumyut," she tells them.
"The…overkill device?" Grant translates, unimpressed. Really?
"A little dramatic for my taste," Hand agrees. "I imagine something was lost in translation."
Or the separatist group is filled with megalomaniacal idiots with delusions of grandeur, but who is he to judge?
"We've intercepted chatter that tells us they plan to use the weapon in the next twenty-four hours to declare their independence from Russia and Georgia," Hand continues. She clicks the remote in her hand, and pictures appear on the screen. "We believe it creates sonic vibrations powerful enough to trigger weapons from a great distance—anything, from the missiles on a helicopter to a nuclear warhead sitting in its silo."
"So if we move on them, they could use our own weapons against us," Coulson concludes.
Grant's pretty sure he knows where this is going, and he takes a deep breath to steel himself for it. This is his job. This device presents a risk to the safety of the world at large, including Jemma. It will be difficult to leave her behind, but he has to do his job. She'll be safe, here at the Hub. It's a secure facility with stringent security protocols. She and Fitz probably won't even leave SciOps the entire time he's gone.
"Exactly," Hand agrees. Her gaze switches to Grant and May. "That's why I need a two-man team to sneak across the disputed border undetected, break into the separatist stronghold, and disable the weapon in the next twenty-four hours." She looks back at Coulson. "And you have two people who fit my bill."
Grant exchanges a 'yeah, we can do that' sort of look with May. He's honestly a little confused, as this assignment could easily be completed by a strike team, rather than stealing away Coulson's specialists, but, well. Theirs is not to question why, and all that. He pushes it away, along with all of his worry for Jemma.
"Not a problem," May says simply.
"I was in Georgia during the incursion in '08," he tells Hand. "I still have contacts on the South Ossetian border."
Uri will be glad to help him out, for the right price.
"And you'll have to use them," Hand says. "But we don't have specs on the device, so I need someone on the team who can identify and dismantle it on-site."
Wait.
"Do you mean—?" he begins, but he can't even finish the thought.
"I think she does," Coulson says, mystified.
"I do," Hand agrees. "Agent Fitz will be the other member of your two-man team."
She doesn't give them a chance to protest, just hands Coulson a flash drive—presumably containing the details they do have.
"Time's wasting," she says. "And it's a long way to South Ossetia. You'd better get moving. There's a transport waiting for you in the hangar."
Grant numbly follows Coulson and May out of the situation room. Shit. As if he weren't going to have a hard enough time leaving Jemma behind in the first place…
She nearly died last week. She went through a terrible, traumatic experience less than a week ago, and now he and Fitz—the people on the team she's closet to, the ones she's been leaning on for support—are going to have to leave her. They're going to have to leave her to go into danger, far away where there's nothing she can do to help them. For Jemma, who's been having nightmares about them dying, this is going to be beyond terrible.
But this is his job, and Jemma's traumatic leave is up. If he asks for someone else to be sent in his place, HQ might decide he's emotionally compromised and revoke their regulation exemption, removing him from the team entirely. There's nothing he can do about this.
They find Jemma, Fitz, and Skye outside of the security checkpoint for SciOps. Or, to be more specific, Jemma and Skye are outside the security checkpoint. Fitz is fighting with the doors. Any other time it might be amusing, but right now it's just a reminder that he's about to take Jemma's completely untrained best friend into an unstable region.
x
They wait until they're back on the Bus to tell the rest of the team about the mission. Of course, they can't share everything, not with the mission classified like it is, but what they can share is enough to make Jemma go pale. Fitz goes pale, too, but he looks resolved.
They really don't have much time, so they split up to pack after Grant gives Fitz a few instructions on what to bring. Jemma looks torn, so he waves her after Fitz. He's got some other things to take care of before he gets to packing. Namely, a conversation with May.
He knows May's not the type to bother with useless pleasantries, so he gets right to the point when he finds her in the kitchen.
"I need a favor."
She leans back against the counter and crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow expectantly.
"Keep an eye on Jemma while I'm gone. Please," he says. He scrubs a hand over his face. "I know she'll be safe at the Hub, and it's ridiculous, but—"
"No," May interrupts. "I understand."
She's looking at him differently—sympathetically, he realizes, and suddenly he remembers that her soulmate is untrained, too. He's not throwing himself into field work like Jemma does, but he's got no way to defend himself if he gets in trouble.
As a fellow specialist with a noncombatant soulmate, May just might be the only person on the Bus who really understands the constant worry Grant feels, the itch that had been in his skin even before Jemma got infected. And from the look on her face, May seems to be realizing the same thing about him.
"I'll look after Simmons," she assures him, and leaves the kitchen.
His first thought is simple relief—she understands, so she'll look after Jemma, even in a place as safe as the Hub. His second thought is that he can use this.
He's given some thought to how he might gain May's trust, and in a world where neither of them had found their soulmates yet, he might have slept with her. But they have found their soulmates, so it's not a viable option, and he doesn't have many other plays to gain the trust of someone like May. But this—he can use this, this unexpected common ground they share, people trained to expect the worst who are bound to people that have no idea what the 'worst' really is.
He can use this. But he doesn't want to.
It feels wrong. Even the thought of using his connection to Jemma that way makes him feel a little sick. It shouldn't. The mission is supposed to be his priority. He needs to hurry up and gain the team's complete trust so that he can be let in on the secret of Coulson's survival. Garrett's life depends on it.
The mission is everything, Garrett's voice whispers in his ear. She is a distraction.
He shakes it off and heads for his bunk. That was just a dream. Just a nightmare, torment from his mind designed to punish him for his weakness when Jemma was infected. Garrett understands the importance of a soulmate, and he would never ask Grant to kill Jemma. That's not a weakness.
But it is a weakness not to take advantage of this, the only common ground he's found with May, aside from their shared training. It's to save Garrett's life, he reminds himself as he changes into clothes that won't stand out in the region. There's nothing wrong with taking advantage of his connection to Jemma to help save Garrett's life. She'd approve, if she knew the circumstances. Of course she would.
The go-bag he keeps in the bottom of his closet already has most of what he'll need, so packing doesn't take long at all. He's just zipping up his bag when his door slides open. He turns and looks at Jemma as she steps into the bunk, and she gives him a painfully false smile.
"Have you finished packing already?" she asks.
"Yeah," he says. "Pretty much ready to go."
"That's good," she says, nodding a little. She looks at his bag, and her smile wavers a little. "Do you have everything you need? I could get you—"
She breaks off when he pulls her to him in a hug. She immediately hugs him back, her grip desperately tight, and takes a deep breath.
"We'll be fine," he tells her quietly. "I'll take care of Fitz. I'll bring him back safe."
She pulls back a little. "And yourself."
"What?"
"You need to take care of yourself, too. Bring both of you back safely," she insists.
He really shouldn't make any promises, but how can he not?
"I will," he says. "I'll bring us both back."
She goes on her tiptoes, and he bends down to meet her in a kiss. He slides both of his hands in her hair, holds her in place, and she clutches at his shirt. The kiss is frantic, desperate, and the fact that it reminds him so strongly of the kiss they shared on the raft, after he caught her, makes him feel that much worse.
She nearly died a week ago, and he's abandoning her to face that on her own, and taking her best friend with him.
She's crying when they pull apart, silent tears falling down her face as she looks up at him.
"Please come back."
"We will," he says. He brushes her tears away, then presses a kiss to her forehead. "Please don't cry."
"You have to come back," she insists, swiping impatiently at her face. "Or you won't get your sandwich."
He…has no idea what that means.
"I was going to make Fitz his favorite sandwich to take along," she explains, apparently seeing his confusion. "But, it has a very strong scent, and I thought, what if you're being tracked? You can't have a prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella sandwich on you if you're being tracked, you'll be caught for certain."
Despite the circumstances, he can't help but smile. That's definitely his influence shining through.
"So I promised Fitz I'd make his favorite sandwich as a reward," she continues. "When he comes back safe and unharmed."
"So all I have to do is not get injured, and you'll make me my favorite sandwich?" he asks, a little amused. "Do you even know what my favorite sandwich is?"
She narrows her eyes at his teasing. "Prosciutto, capicola, and soppressata with provolone."
He leans back a little, surprised.
"You told me," she reminds him. "During breakfast, the day after we met."
"So I did," he says. He's beyond touched that she actually remembers that, an offhand comment made in a conversation they had a month and a half ago, and he can't resist the urge to bend down and kiss her again.
"So you understand," she says when they part. "You can't get injured or you won't get a sandwich."
"Understood," he confirms. His watch beeps, and he lets go of her to pick up and shoulder his bag.
"It's time to go?" she asks.
"Yeah," he says. The glow of her timer catches his eye, and he brings her wrist up to kiss it, the way he did last night. "I love you."
"I love you, too," she says. She's tearing up again, and he hates it, but he's knows there's no comfort he can offer, not yet. All he can do is bring Fitz home safely. "Please be safe."
"We will," he says, and leads the way out of his bunk. He can see Coulson and May in the briefing room, obviously waiting for him, and he looks down at Jemma. "I need to talk to Coulson."
"I'll go…say goodbye to Fitz," she says, her voice unsteady. "Again."
She steps closer to him and slides her arms around his waist, squeezing tightly, for just a moment. He returns it with one arm, using the other to keep his bag from swinging forward and hitting her.
"Goodbye, Grant," she says quietly.
"Goodbye, Jemma."
x
In the transport to Europe, he goes over the plan with Fitz a few times. Fitz is obviously nervous, asking a lot of questions, and Grant does his best to answer them all patiently. He's tense—over leaving Jemma behind, over taking an untrained scientist into the field, over everything that might go wrong—so it's difficult, but he manages.
The transport is a high-speed Quinjet, capable of flying much faster than the Bus, so it's not long at all before they're landing in the Caucasus Mountains. There's a jeep there, waiting for them, and a SHIELD agent who hands over the keys with a solemn nod.
Grant takes the front seat, starts up the jeep, and heads for Uri's bar.
Fitz is fidgeting nervously next to him, occasionally muttering to himself, and Grant takes a deep breath. He needs to keep Fitz calm. Science questions usually work as a distraction, but he doesn't know enough about science to come up with a good enough question to distract Fitz off the top of his head. So he goes for the one thing they have in common: Jemma.
As expected, Fitz is all too happy to share stories of working with Jemma. Most of them are apparently the you-had-to-be-there type, because they're really not that funny, but at least Fitz is sufficiently distracted and no longer nervous. He's actually laughing as they finally pull up outside of the bar, two hours later.
Grant turns off the car and waits until Fitz finishes the story, then asks, "Do you have the beacon?"
"Yeah," Fitz says, patting his bag.
"Okay," he says. "Listen, my contact is Uri Dubrovsky. We're going to pay him to get us across the border. We go back, but he doesn't like new people. I'm going to introduce you as my soulmate's brother—he's a romantic, he'll like that—but you still should keep your head down. Okay?"
"Okay," Fitz says with a deep breath. "Let's go."
Of course, things don't go nearly as simply as that. He really should have called to check in on Uri sometime in the last five years, because apparently he's dead, and no one in the crowd at the bar is mourning him.
Ironically, the woman in charge suspects them of being separatists, since Uri was a separatist. They tell her they aren't, but of course she's not just going to take their word for it, and she dismisses them to go back to watching the game.
Grant swears as he struggles with the ropes binding his wrists. The thugs who tied them up knew what they were doing, and obviously identified Grant as the more dangerous of the two of them; there's no way for him to get out of these ropes without hurting Fitz.
"Do you have a plan?" Fitz hisses at him.
"Only the kind that involve my terrifyingly vague questions," he replies sardonically.
"Okay, well, I have a plan," Fitz says, ignoring his tone.
Grant stops struggling with the ropes and looks at him. "You have a plan?"
"I have a localized EMP," Fitz says. "I can use it to knock out their power. They'll be missing the game, so I'll offer to fix it. Then they'll have to let us go."
It's a ridiculous plan with very little chance of working. But it doesn't involve Grant causing harm to Fitz, which is something he'd really like to avoid. He takes a deep breath.
"Do it."
Miraculously, the plan actually works. Fitz even manages to charm the boss, Marta, enough to earn a nickname from her. Fixing the power in time for the crowd at the bar to watch the game gets them enough good will to negotiate—or at least, it gets Fitz enough good will to negotiate, and he negotiates them across the border for two million rubles.
(Grant's really glad it's not his money they're dealing with.)
As soon as the game ends, they're in the back of a truck heading across the border.
"Good work," Grant says as they pull away from the bar.
"Did that hurt?" Fitz asks, a little snarkily. He looks appreciative of the praise, though, and he really does deserve it.
"That was a good plan. Simple, well-executed, and it got the job done," Grant says. "It was good work."
"Well," Fitz says, a little uncomfortably. He avoids eye contact by pulling a hat out of his bag and putting it on. "You're welcome, then."
He's about to change the subject when the truck slows.
"We're stopping," Fitz says. "Why are we stopping?"
Grant can hear muffled shouting, but it's not clear enough to make out the words.
"Stay here," he orders. "I'll check it out."
But he's barely moved an inch when gunshots ring out, and he resumes his place against the barrels.
"Okay, maybe we'll both stay here," he corrects himself.
He knows that's not a viable plan, though. The gunshots stop, and he thinks fast. They have the element of surprise at the moment, and they need to take advantage of it. Whoever's shooting will definitely check the back of the truck, and when they do he and Fitz will be pinned down with nowhere to run. He needs to take the shooters (presumably border guards) out before they reach the truck. He looks at the barrels sitting on the very edge of the truck bed. If he kicks them out and shoots them, it may provide enough of a distraction for him to take out the guards before they get close enough to pin he and Fitz down.
It's not foolproof, but it's the best plan he's got.
"Keep your head down," he warns Fitz.
"What are you going to do?" Fitz whispers.
He doesn't have time to explain the plan, though. He just pulls out his gun, takes a deep breath, and kicks the barrels over the edge of the truck.
The plan works; the barrels explode spectacularly, enough to knock down two of the border guards and distract the third enough for Grant to take his rifle and knock him out with it. But another jeep is pulling up the path; it's time to get out of here.
"Fitz!" he yells over his shoulder. "More border patrol!"
"I'm already moving!" Fitz yells back. "Hurry up!"
He drops the assault rifle (it's too bulky, it'll make too much noise as he carries it) and runs after Fitz. Grant's taller—and trained in running while carrying a bulky pack—so it doesn't take him long to catch up to Fitz.
"Follow me," he shouts, and begins zigzagging through the fields.
They find a river, and he leads Fitz through it for a while, remaining in the water for nearly twenty minutes. Fitz complains, but it'll throw any dogs off their scent, and that's more important than Fitz's comfort.
Eventually, as the sun is setting, they find a drainage pipe, large enough to hide in and far enough from the truck they left behind that he feels safe resting in it. He motions Fitz in, and the engineer collapses, panting.
They can't wait too long since, as Fitz points out, they need to disable that device, but Fitz really is in no shape to keep running. And even if he were, they're far outnumbered, and the border patrol has jeeps and dogs. They're better off waiting until the search dies down.
Grant crouches just inside the pipe, his gun at the ready, and settles in to wait.
x
"Why do you think SHIELD sent in just the two of us?" Fitz asks eventually, after the sun has set and it's fully dark.
"I don't know," he says. He's honestly still a little confused about that, himself. Sure, Fitz has the technical know-how to disable the device, and Grant has the skills to get him to the device safely, but. There are plenty of combat-trained scientists on SHIELD's payroll, and plenty of specialists that aren't already attached to a field team.
It's a little fishy, actually.
"Said they needed a guy like you and a guy like me," he continues.
Fitz sighs and presses a hand to his stomach. "I really wish Simmons had just given me that sandwich, instead of saving it as a reward. I'm bloody starving."
"Good thing she didn't," Grant says, unzipping his jacket. "The dogs would've smelled it." He pulls a protein bar out of the inside pocket and hands it to Fitz. "Here. It's odorless."
Fitz examines it doubtfully, but unwraps it and takes a bite.
"Simmons said that," he says around his mouthful. "That bit about dogs smelling us. Did she get that from you?"
"We had a lot of time to talk, in Italy," he says, zipping his jacket back up. "I guess she picked up on some things."
He keeps his tone casual, but the tension he's been ignoring all day is suddenly all he can think about. It's been hours since they left the Hub. Is she okay? Is she asleep? Can she sleep?
He managed to keep his worry for her compartmentalized for this long, but the mere mention of her name has brought it all back.
"How do you think she's doing?" Fitz asks quietly, apparently picking up on the direction of his thoughts. Or maybe he's been worrying about her this whole time, too.
"I'm sure she's fine," he says calmly, even though he's sure of no such thing. "She's got Skye to keep her company, and I asked May to keep an eye on her, before we left."
"Right," Fitz says, crinkling up the empty wrapper. "Of course you did. Mister Save-the-Day, of course you've got the bloody Calvary watching Simmons."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Grant asks, honestly taken aback.
"Oh, come on," Fitz snaps. "You obviously get off on it, being the guy who always gets to throw the last punch, who always swoops in to save the girl. Always have a back-up plan, don't you? May watching Simmons, food for me to eat, enough money to pay that ridiculous fee I negotiated, taking out those border guards."
Okay. Well.
Grant thinks there are two issues here. From the first part, he's guessing Fitz has some unresolved issues over Grant being the one to save Jemma last week. Even though Fitz played a major part in creating the antidote and was perfectly willing to go out after Jemma, apparently Grant 'swooping in' and doing it instead has left Fitz feeling a little inadequate.
But he has no idea where the part about the back-up plan and the food and the border guards came from. Plans and violence are literally his entire job description.
"Before we left, Coulson told me to look out for you," he tells Fitz, deciding to tackle that issue first. "Taking out the border guards, that was what I was doing."
Fitz looks away.
"It was your plan that got us into the country," Grant reminds him. "And as for the food and the back-up plan? That's my job. I've been on a hundred of these ops. I know what to expect. I know what I need."
"And May?" Fitz asks.
Grant bites the inside of his cheek. He doesn't want to admit to his weakness. But Fitz will understand, he thinks. And it may help things between them. He wants to be able to get along with Fitz. Not because of Garrett's plan—although it will help that, too—but because he just wants to.
"May wasn't planning," he admits lowly. "May was panic."
"Panic?" Fitz echoes, dubious.
"I haven't been able to let Jemma out of my sight," he continues. "After what happened. If I'm away from her for longer than twenty minutes, I panic. I start thinking of all the things that could be happening to her. Even when I know it's ridiculous, even when she's just in the next room, I completely freak. Being sent away from her this long? Asking May to look after her was the only thing I could think of that might help."
Fitz stares at him, taken aback. He obviously has no idea how to respond.
"And about what you said, the swooping in thing," Grant says, figuring he might as well get it out while Fitz is speechless. "I know—"
He breaks off, catching sight of his watch. There's no time for this.
"We'll talk later," he says. "We need to move if we're going to make it there in time."
"Right," Fitz agrees after a long moment.
x
It's difficult, crossing the rocky terrain on foot, but it becomes a little easier once the sun rises. Fitz is completely out of breath, so there's no more talking, and Grant is, surprisingly, not happy about that. Without the distraction of conversation, there's not enough to focus on to keep him from worrying about Jemma.
It's ridiculous. He's completely aware that it's ridiculous. She's got May and Coulson to watch her back, even if she needs it, which she doesn't, since she's in a completely secure facility with a state-of-the-art security system which not even Stark has been able to crack. (Though not from lack of trying, or so Grant hears.)
There's absolutely no danger at the Hub. There are HYDRA agents there, of course, but they're all undercover as SHIELD and have no reason to be interested in Jemma.
She's fine. She's just fine.
He spends the whole hike going around in circles about it, trying to convince himself she's fine and then envisioning all sorts of terrible things that might be happening to her at this very moment. It's ridiculous and pointless and eventually he has to shove it all away, compartmentalize it again, to focus back on the mission.
The plan calls for them to use a mag pouch—a sort of camouflage sleeping bag big enough for two people—to hitch a ride into the compound where the device is being kept. It means they have to be in position early enough to hide themselves before the truck is in sight of the compound, and surprisingly, they manage it. The guards and the dogs were a setback, but luckily there's plenty of wiggle room built into the plan, for exactly that reason.
They spread out the mag pouch when they reach the road and climb into it. It's a tight fit, but Grant's had worse.
He considers continuing the conversation from earlier, dealing with Fitz's issues with him, but he doesn't have the chance. He feels the road vibrating under him, and when he listens, he can hear the truck coming.
"Truck's coming," he hisses. "Zip up the mag pouch!"
x
It's not a fun ride, but they make it to the compound without being caught. When they reach the door of the specific building they want, he signals for the extraction.
There's no response. He tries again, a horrible suspicion clawing up his throat, and once again, there's no response.
Realization dawns.
He thinks of Garrett, sitting across from him in that forest in Wyoming, telling him about being left without support in Sarajevo, and feels a little sick. He's spent his entire career with SHIELD keeping that story in the back of his mind. He always has a back-up, his own private extraction plan he doesn't tell the higher-ups about, just in case. He's never had to use it, though, and apparently he's grown lax.
What was it Fitz called him earlier? Mister Save-the-Day?
Coulson's team has made him soft. Jemma has made him soft. He has no back-up plan waiting, not this time. He'd thought he could trust SHIELD, just this once. He knows he has no particular value to SHIELD, but surely they wouldn't send the golden boy of engineering to his death.
Except apparently they have.
He should've known. After how eager SHIELD was to sacrifice Jemma last week, he should have known they would be willing to sacrifice Fitz, too. Now they're trapped in hostile territory, about to sabotage the separatists' main leverage, and as soon as they do that, SHIELD will move in.
They'll be surrounded. Caught. Killed.
Fitz is talking, but the words can't reach Grant. He can't understand them through the storm of rage and grief that's filled him.
He should have known. He did know.
He's furious, thinking of Fitz dying like this. Sacrificed for SHIELD's greater cause. Just a number, an acceptable casualty. And he thinks of Jemma, left without her soulmate and without her best friend. Her timer will go red when Grant dies, but she'll always wonder about Fitz. And she'll be alone.
He can't let that happen. He can't let Fitz die.
One of them has to disable the device. He doesn't want to do SHIELD any favors, but the truth is that the overkill device really is too dangerous to leave in anyone's hands. So he needs to get Fitz to show him how to disable it, then he'll send Fitz away. It'll be difficult for an untrained engineer to find his way back to friendlier territory, especially since he doesn't speak any of the local languages, but at least he'll have more of a chance than if he stays here.
He takes a deep breath and puts it away. He shoves it all down—the rage, the grief, the guilt that he didn't anticipate this, that he's going to leave Jemma behind—and he moves. Fitz is still talking, but Grant ignores him, circles around to the other door and enters the building. There are two guards in the hallway, easily taken out, and he opens the door for Fitz.
"Hurry. Inside."
He leads the way through the halls, on guard, but they don't come across anyone else, and they reach the overkill device less than five minutes after entering the building. Good thing, too, as they're running out of time.
"This must be it," he says. He scans the room, but there are no guards. Not a good sign, he thinks.
Fitz examines the device for a moment.
"Weird," he says, then raps his knuckles against the device. "Core must be inside here, that's what's important." He starts to take his backpack off. "The piping around it just serves to amplify and direct the sound, to trigger munitions from a distance."
"Doesn't look like it could take a jet out of the sky," Grant muses.
"Well you should know by now, Agent Ward, that looks can be deceiving," Fitz says, and starts unscrewing the panel covering the core. It's not said as sharply as it could be, and Grant hopes his little spill session in the drainage pipe helped. He's going to need Fitz to trust him.
They pull the panel off to reveal the inside, which is glowing and humming. It's…pretty disturbing, actually.
"This…is gonna take a while," Fitz says.
They don't have a while. "You have ten minutes."
"I thought you'd say five," Fitz says mildly, and gets to work.
Grant waits until it looks like Fitz is almost finished, then asks to be shown the final steps so he can get it done. Fitz wants to stick to the plan, though, so Grant is forced to tell him the truth.
"Extraction plan's a bust," he says. Fitz stops working and turns to look at him. "Exfil team didn't make contact. Once you take that thing apart and I set off the remote beacon, we're on our own. You should go."
Fitz stares at the device for a moment, then gets back to work. "I'm not leaving."
"Fitz," Grant says, grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand from the device. "There's no time to argue."
"You don't think I can handle this?" Fitz asks over him.
"No," Grant says. "I am trying to protect you."
"Oh, you think I'm a coward," Fitz decides. "Is that it?"
"What?" Grant asks. Where the hell did that come from? "No."
"I am every. bit. the SHIELD agent that you are," Fitz says. Then he jerks his wrist out of Grant's grip and gets back to working on the device.
"Whoa, whoa," Grant says. Seriously, what the hell is going on here?
Oh, wait. The swooping in thing. Damn it, he knew he should've dealt with that earlier.
"You don't have anything to prove," he tells Fitz. "What you said about me always needing to swoop in? I know you would've jumped out of the plane to save Jemma. Hell, you had the parachute half on. I didn't take it from you because I thought you were gonna chicken out. I took it from you because I'm trained for skydiving, and you're not. I know you would've done it, and so does Jemma. That's why she knocked you out."
"I'm not trying to prove anything to anyone," Fitz says, but he doesn't sound as angry now. He turns to look at Grant again. "Okay, before we left, you're not the only one that Coulson talked to. Okay? He told me to take care of you, too. And that's exactly what I'm gonna do."
Wait, what? That's ridiculous. Fitz is an untrained engineer, it makes sense for Coulson to tell Grant to look out for him. But the other way around? Grant is a highly trained specialist, best scores since Romanoff, for god's sake. He doesn't need to be looked after. And why would Coulson even care? Grant's whole job is to be expendable.
"I'm not going anywhere," Fitz insists. "You understand?"
He considers arguing more, bringing up the fact that Jemma doesn't need to lose both of them today, but the fact of the matter is…she's going to. They're in the middle of what amounts to a military base. Fitz has no training, no map, and doesn't speak the local language. Even if he does leave right now, and Grant waits until he's out of range to deactivate the overkill device…
There's no way Fitz can make it out of here alive. They're both going to die.
He nods silently, and Fitz goes back to work.
Jemma's going to be alone. She's losing her best friend and her soulmate today, and she's already been struggling with her own trauma. He hopes Skye can help her through this. He hopes she leaves SHIELD and goes into private industry, away from this fucking organization that will sacrifice its people like they're nothing. He hopes Garrett finds a cure, and burns SHIELD to the ground once he has it. He hopes Victoria Hand dies a bloody, terrible death.
But mostly, as he watches Fitz disable the last few couplings, he just hopes Jemma will be okay. He tries not to think of her, at the Hub, hearing the beep and seeing her timer go red. He tries not to think how she'll feel when she realizes he's dead, and how much worse it will get when Fitz never comes back, either.
He's glad they had those days in Italy. He hopes they're a comfort to her, in the future. He hopes someone will help her through her nightmares.
Even though it's pointless, even though it won't save Fitz even if he does say yes, he has to give him one last out.
"Last chance, Fitz," he says. "Are you sure you don't want a head start? Because the second you pull that final wire—"
Fitz answers by pulling the wire out, and the device shuts off. "Your turn."
Grant shakes his head and hits the remote for the beacon.
It's pretty much hopeless, but they might as well try to get out before the separatists notice that the device has been powered down. Unfortunately, Fitz has no sooner pulled the core out of the machine than an alarm sounds.
So much for that. Still, Grant's not going down without a fight.
"We need a new plan," he says, and he's surprised to find Fitz speaking in unison with him. They exchange a weirded-out look and silently, mutually agree to ignore it.
"If I can use this to disable the separatists' guns, we could just walk out of here," Fitz says, looking down at the core. "It needs—"
Grant tunes him out, realizing he's just talking to make himself feel better, and watches as he fusses with the wires, occasionally pulling some out of the main machine.
"Are you sure this is going to work?" he asks eventually. They're running out of time; this room is going to be swarming with guards any second now.
"Yes," Fitz says, annoyed. "Theoretically."
Great. There's the sound of a nearby door slamming, and both of them look towards it, then at each other. Fitz speeds up.
"Okay, finished," he declares a second later. He bends down to grab his bag, and the building shakes with an explosion. "What was that?"
"SHIELD," Grant tells him. "They've started their attack, which means we don't have much time before they crush the compound."
But they have more immediate problems; guards are coming down the stairs towards them. Grant looks around and spies an out of the way platform, which he points Fitz towards.
"Get up there and take out as many of their weapons as you can with that thing."
Fitz scrambles for it, and Grant turns to face the approaching guards.
Surprisingly, the device does work, and the guards throw their useless weapons away and come at Grant with their bare hands. He's almost glad. He uses what he's been tamping down—the rage that's still filling him, the desperation and the grief, the betrayal from SHIELD that he should have been expecting, god damn it—and he takes it all out on the guards. He crosses them off, one by one, and he's more violent than he needs to be but if he's about to die he's sure as hell taking these bastards with him.
One of them goes for the ladder that leads to Fitz, and Grant takes him down, too, but that leaves an opening for the last guard, who gets a couple of lucky punches in. Fitz kicks him in the face, knocking him out, before Grant can recover enough to do it himself.
Grant stares in shock as Fitz climbs down the ladder.
Fitz is shocked, too. "I just did that." Grant nods in agreement, and Fitz hits him in the chest. "Okay, let's go."
They make it out of the building, into the compound, and Fitz is looking slightly more optimistic, but Grant knows it's hopeless. They're not getting out of here. Even with the overkill core that Fitz is carrying, they're too outnumbered.
All the while, explosions have been going off in distant parts of the compound, and each one fills him with even more rage. So does the sight of the SHIELD jets that fly overhead; they're about to destroy the facility, with he and Fitz still in it.
They stare at the quickly growing group of guards, who are approaching from every direction.
"You said they needed a guy like me and a guy like you, right?" Fitz asks.
"Right," Grant agrees. It's a lie—this could have been anyone—but he hopes Fitz will draw some comfort from the idea that his death is necessary, that he's not dying for no reason.
A shadow falls over them, and they both look up. Grant stares, completely stunned. It's not possible. That can't be what he thinks it is.
"It's the extraction team?" Fitz guesses.
The plane comes fully into view, and Grant shakes his head. It's the Bus. It really is. Somehow, their team is here.
"Better," he tells Fitz. Giddy with relief as he is, he can't resist the joke. "It's the Cavalry."
He laughs as May turns the Bus to face the separatists, then reverses the jets so that they get knocked back. She achieves a vertical landing, and the cargo ramp lowers. He and Fitz don't waste any time running for it, and as soon as Grant hits the button to raise the cargo ramp, the plane begins to lift.
"We're alive," Fitz says blankly.
"Yeah," Grant agrees. "Did not see that one coming."
He looks up at the sound of footsteps, and sees Coulson coming down the stairs.
"Thanks for coming to get us, sir," he says, offering his hand.
"We take care of our own," Coulson tells him, shaking his hand and then Fitz's.
Jemma appears in the lab, coming from the direction of the storage area, and immediately moves towards them. She hangs back as Coulson leaves, then throws herself at Fitz.
"You're okay," she says, hugging him tightly. "Oh, I can't believe it. When Skye told us there was no extraction team—"
"Of course I'm fine, Simmons," Fitz tells her, patting her back. "Don't fuss."
Grant smiles as he watches them begin to argue over what exactly constitutes 'fine'. He looks up, sensing movement above him, and sees May on the catwalk. He nods at her in thanks, and she returns it and leaves. Not one to hang around, May. Unlike Skye, who's standing in the lab, bouncing on her heels. She's obviously waiting for Jemma to be done before she comes out and greets them. He dismisses her for the moment and looks back at his soulmate, who is still hugging Fitz even as she argues with him.
He's glad Jemma got to Fitz first, because he needs a moment to gain control of himself.
They could have died. They would have died, without the team. Taking into account what Jemma just said, he has a feeling that Skye got too curious for her own good, somehow hacked the mission files, and saw there was no planned extraction, leading to the team taking the Bus and coming to get them.
Which means that if Skye hadn't hacked the files, he and Fitz would be dead. They would have died just now, in that compound, because Grant was stupid enough to trust SHIELD with their safety. Before, he thought he'd been cautious, but he's obviously allowed years of counting on SHIELD to get to him, and that's why they got caught in South Ossetia without a back-up extraction plan.
Well, he won't be making that mistake again. We take care of our own, Coulson said, and that's true, but the we in question isn't SHIELD. It's the team. It's his team. From now on, he trusts them. He trusts the team, and he trusts Garrett, and that's it. He won't trust SHIELD with anything. Not with extraction plans, not with missions, and certainly not with Jemma's safety.
Speaking of whom, she finally pulls away from Fitz (allowing the impatiently waiting Skye to hug him) and immediately throws herself at Grant.
"Are you hurt?" she asks, clutching him tightly. "Don't say you're not, I can see you're hurt, and we should really get those cuts looked at."
He relaxes as he slides his arms around her, feeling most of his tension melt away.
"I'm fine, Jemma," he says. "It's nothing major."
"Yes, well, I'll be the judge of that," she says sternly. She pressed her face into his chest, obviously trying not to cry, and he hugs her tighter.
"I'm fine," he repeats. "Fitz and I are both fine."
"You're sure?" she frets. "You don't need anything?"
"Well, there is one thing."
"What?" she asks, looking up.
He feels bad when he sees the worry on her face, but he really can't resist. "We'll be better when we get those sandwiches you owe us."
Jemma gasps, indignant, and pulls back to sock him in the chest as Fitz laughs. (She keeps her other arm wrapped around his waist, her fingers hooked through his belt loops, and he keeps an arm around her shoulders. Neither one of them is ready to let go.)
"I owe you no such thing," she says. "The deal was that you'd get sandwiches if you came back unharmed, and you are clearly not unharmed."
"Oh, come off it, Simmons," Fitz interjects. "We just single-handedly brought down an entire separatist group. We earned those sandwiches."
Grant doesn't know that what just happened can be described as single-handed, but he actually does really want a sandwich, so he nods in agreement when Jemma looks back at him.
She 'hmph's a little and looks away. "We'll see."
"That means yes," Fitz tells him.
"It means we'll see," Jemma corrects instantly.
"It means you'll do it," Fitz counters, then waves a hand. "So! We've talked about our mission enough, don't you think? Did anything exciting happen at the Hub?"
Skye laughs. She sounds a little hysterical when she says, "Oh, you could say that."
Grant leans back to better look at Jemma, who clears her throat.
"Um," she says. "I shot a superior officer in the chest."
What.
Skye laughs harder, while Grant and Fitz stare at Jemma in shock.
"You—you what?" Fitz sputters. "Why would—what on—Ward! You are a terrible influence!"
"Don't look at me," he says, raising his free hand innocently. "I've never shot a superior officer in the chest."
"I used the night-night gun," Jemma says defensively. "And I didn't have a choice! Agent Sitwell caught me in a corridor I didn't have access to. I had to shoot him."
Grant clears his throat, trying to keep a stern expression. It's difficult; that's the hottest thing he's ever heard, and he'd really like to kiss her.
"What were you doing in an area you didn't have access to?" he asks.
"We were trying to find out what was going on with your mission," she says. "Skye cooked up a plan—"
"Hey, that was not my fault," Skye defends. "I told you to flirt with the guy, not shoot him!"
"Oh, like anyone would believe I'd flirt with Jasper Sitwell when I've got a soulmate who looks like this," Jemma snaps, motioning to Grant with her free hand.
He can't help laughing at that, and at the horrified look Fitz sports in response to the words. Jemma's never made any secret of the fact that she finds him attractive, but it's always nice to hear.
"Well, thank you," he says, earning an annoyed look from Fitz. He rolls his eyes in return. "For finding out that there wasn't an extraction plan and getting us out. Thank you."
"Oh, yes," Fitz agrees. "Thank you."
"Our pleasure," Jemma says.
"Any time," Skye agrees.
They stand in silence for a moment, then Jemma takes a deep breath and finally lets go of him. He lets his arm slide off of her shoulder as she takes a step back.
"Well, I suppose I'll make you those sandwiches, after all," she says. "Since you've had such a hard day."
She hurries up the stairs before anyone can say anything else, and he watches her go, concerned.
"Knew it," Fitz mutters, and follows her up.
Skye comes to stand in front of him and punches him in the arm. "You know, for a second there, I thought I'd have to find a new supervising officer."
"Sorry to disappoint," he says. He looks back up the stairs, after Fitz. "Truth is, I was in good hands."
Skye smiles. "Aww, did you and Fitz bond? Did you go on a life-changing field trip together?"
She's wearing that face she wears when she references something, but he has no idea what she's talking about, so he just pats her on the shoulder.
"Sure," he says. "If you say so."
x
Later, after a debrief with Coulson, a really delicious sandwich, and a forty-minute shower, he finds Jemma sitting on his bed.
"Hey," he says, sliding the door closed. "You okay?"
"I thought you were going to die," she says shakily. "Skye said that you and Fitz might be being tortured, so I helped her get the file, and there was no extraction plan. You were alone in hostile territory with no extraction plan, and we—"
He sits down next to her, pulls her into his side.
"Hey, I'm fine," he reminds her. "We're fine. We didn't die, we weren't tortured, and Fitz even made a new friend."
"A new friend?" she echoes.
"A woman named Marta who runs a gang near the border," he explains. "She called him little bear."
She laughs, a little tearily.
"I just don't understand," she says. "Why would SHIELD send you in without an extraction plan? How could they overlook something like that?"
He takes a deep breath. He feels the way she's shaking against him, hears the plea in her voice. He could turn her, right now. Not to HYDRA's side, no, she'd never go for that—but he could turn her against SHIELD. Tell her that her soulmate and her best friend were considered expendable, that they'd been filed under acceptable losses in the name of global security. If he uses the right words, he can shatter her loyalty to SHIELD. He won't even have to lie. He could do it right now.
No he can't.
It would more than break her trust in SHIELD. Knowing that she's given her life to a lie? That SHIELD is entirely unworthy of the dedication she's given it? It would break her heart, too. He can't do that to her. Not tonight.
"I don't know," he says. "But it doesn't matter."
"It doesn't matter?" she demands. "How can it not matter? You nearly died. If Skye hadn't insisted on going looking for that file, you would have died." She lets out a shuddering breath and repeats, "You would have died."
She buries her face in her hands, and he pulls her into his lap.
"We didn't," he reminds her. He pulls her hands away from her face, kisses her. Once, twice, three times. Slow, gentle kisses, meant for reassurance, not passion. By the end of the third, she's smiling a little, no longer at risk of crying. She leans forward to rest her head against his shoulder.
"I love you," she says into his neck.
"I love you, too," he says, stroking her hair.
She sighs contentedly, and he continues running his fingers through her hair, trying to keep his calm.
He has to let this go for now. He can't act too soon, or it will tip his hand. He won't jeopardize his relationship with Jemma, and he won't risk Garrett's plan.
But he swears to himself that he'll get his revenge, for this. SHIELD nearly got him and Fitz killed, nearly stole them away and left Jemma alone. That can't go unpunished. It won't be today, and it won't be tomorrow, but someday, there's going to be a reckoning. Someday, SHIELD is going to pay for what nearly happened. He can't take the whole organization down, obviously, as much as he'd like to. But he can take down the people responsible for what happened today. And he knows exactly who's to blame for this incident.
Someday, hopefully soon, Victoria Hand is going to learn exactly why Grant is considered the most dangerous specialist to come out of the Academy in recent memory.
A/N: Things I don't own in this chapter: SHIELD, obviously. I-Mines, which I cheerfully stole from Eureka. And a life-changing field trip, which might have been enough to turn Ward away from HYDRA, if only Zuko had been able to make it.