A/N: First of all, thank you so much for all of the comments and kudos. They mean a lot. :)
Second, I feel like this is a good time to mention two things, which may or may not apply to this chapter specifically, but which are important to keep in mind as we enter the HYDRA arc.
One: Grant's opinions do not necessarily reflect mine. Just because he says or does something which he believes is justified does not mean that I agree, and it certainly doesn't mean that I would say or do the same under the circumstances. I want to make that clear.
Two: As the author of this fic, I reserve to change things—or not change things—as I see fit. Keep that in mind, please.
One more thing. As I'm sure you all know, the show comes back next week. I hope to have the next chapter out before the premiere, but in case I don't, I'll say this now: this fic will only remain canon compliant through season one. Meaning that I won't be incorporating anything from season two. I don't care if the premiere reveals that Ward is actually an alien from planet Chulak; it won't affect the fic.
Okay, I think that's it. Thanks for reading, and, as always, please be gentle if you review!
As expected, he completely fails at convincing Jemma to take some fentanyl. He has a little more success with the ice pack—after some prodding, she agrees to sit down in the lab and ice her ribs as she monitors Skye's vitals. Of course, it's mostly pointless, since she keeps getting up to double check the settings on the hyperbaric chamber, but he'll take what he can get.
A very tense two hours later, Skye is safely handed over to the doctors at a SHIELD Trauma Center in Zurich. She's alive when they wheel her into the operating theater, but she's in bad shape, and there's a noticeable air of desperation hanging over the team as they gather in the waiting room.
They wait all night.
Coulson spends the entire time on the phone, trying to reach Fury. May is silent, but far from stoic, and Grant has the feeling she's making use of those rage-controlling techniques she taught him. For his part, he's more numb than angry.
He doesn't know what to hope for. If the doctors here are able to save Skye's life, then he's no closer to learning the secret of Coulson's survival than he was this time yesterday, and all of this will have been for nothing. However, if the doctors here can't save Skye…
Coulson is obviously failing to get word to Fury. Judging by his increasing desperation, they're on a time limit; if he doesn't get to whatever saved his life soon enough, Skye will die permanently. Then this will still have been for nothing, and Skye will be dead. He doesn't want that. For what it will do to Jemma, to the team, and even to him. He started off hating Skye, but he doesn't hate her now, and he doesn't want her dead.
There's nothing he can do about it now. It's out of his hands. All he can do is sit here and wait.
It's a little after dawn when someone finally comes to speak to them. They all get to their feet as Dr. Jazuat enters the room, and Grant knows what she's going to say before she opens her mouth. It's written all over her face.
"How is she?" Coulson asks.
"Not good," Jazuat says quietly. "The shots perforated her stomach and penetrated the large and small intestines. We resected what we could, but…there's been too much damage."
Because Grant is standing right next to Jemma, he hears the slow breath she lets out at the news, and looks down in time to see her close her eyes briefly. She knows exactly what that means, and she's already steeling herself for what comes next.
Coulson isn't as quick. "So what's next?"
"We can keep her comfortable," Jazuat says. "But you'll need to make a decision on whether or not you want to keep her on life support."
Grant knew it was coming. He's been counting on it, really. But hearing it aloud still hits him like a blow to the solar plexus.
"You're saying there's nothing to be done?" Coulson asks quietly.
"I'm saying you need to call her family," Jazuat says. "Get them here as soon as possible."
The words racket up the tension in the room by about twelve notches, and there's a long moment of silence. Coulson takes a few deep breaths, obviously holding back tears.
"We're her family," he says finally.
Jazuat looks around the room at them. "In that case, I'm very sorry."
It's definitive, and Grant sinks down to sit on the arm of the chair behind him. This is it. If this doesn't work…if Coulson doesn't come through…if his need to maintain SHIELD's secrets is more important to him than Skye…
It's not just Garrett's life on the line anymore. Now it's Skye's, too.
May stalks past Coulson and Jazuat, out of the room and down the hall. Grant watches after her, taking in the set of her shoulders, and thinks that Quinn might be in trouble.
Before he can decide whether he should say anything about it, Coulson clears his throat, stopping Jazuat from leaving.
"Can she be moved?" he asks.
Jazuat shakes her head, obviously confused. "She's on life support, Agent Coulson."
"Yes, I understand that," he says, a little impatiently. "But I'd like to have her moved out of your trauma center and into one of the med-pods on our plane. Is that possible?"
"It's possible," Jazuat admits. "But I wouldn't advise it. The trauma she's experienced—"
"I understand," Coulson interrupts. "But I'm going to have to insist. I'd like to take Skye for a second opinion."
Jazuat looks a little offended, but nods. "I'll arrange it, then. Excuse me."
She walks out of the room, and Jemma and Fitz stand.
"A second opinion, sir?" Jemma asks. "Skye sustained a very serious injury."
"And SHIELD's trauma centers are the best," Fitz agrees. "If they can't do anything for Skye here…"
"We're not taking her just to another trauma center," Coulson says placidly. "We're taking her to Bethesda."
Jemma and Fitz exchange puzzled looks, and Grant stands.
"Before we do that, sir," he says. "We should probably go stop Agent May."
Coulson pauses and glances down the hall. "You think she went to express her frustration to Quinn?"
"Or on him," Grant says. "If we need him alive…"
"Right," Coulson says. "Let's go. FitzSimmons, you stay here and oversee Skye's transfer to the Bus."
"Yes, sir," Jemma and Fitz agree, though both of them are obviously still confused.
Somehow, Grant doubts that the secret to saving Garrett and Skye's lives is being held in Bethesda, of all places, but what does he know?
So he doesn't ask any questions, just follows Coulson out of the room and towards the hangar.
x
It takes a while for Skye's transfer to be arranged. They need to remove one of the Bus' med-pods, sterilize it, equip it with the monitors and machines necessary for Skye's medical care, then get Skye situated and secured—because turbulence is a very, very bad thing when one is on life support.
There's nothing for any of the team to do while this is happening, not even Jemma—as she keeps reminding them, she's not a medical doctor, and the trauma center staff is fully capable of taking care of this. Not that she doesn't try to get involved in the process, but Grant, after ascertaining that no, there's nothing she can really do to help, convinces her to leave it be.
He drags her and Fitz back to the Bus and makes breakfast for the three of them, because he doesn't even remember the last time he ate and suspects that it's been just as long for the other two, if not longer. He also tries to get Jemma to take some fentanyl—he can tell by the way she's taking careful, shallow breaths that her ribs are in serious pain at the moment—but he's less successful on that score.
"If we're bringing Skye back to the Bus, my mind needs to remain clear," she insists. "If she starts coding—"
"Okay," he interrupts, partially because of how distressed Fitz looks at the idea. He's definitely feeling guilty over Skye's condition, and they're going to have to talk about it—he's no use to anyone if he's distracted by his emotions. "No fentanyl. But you have to take something, Jemma."
"I don't disagree," Jemma sighs. "I'll take some paracetamol after breakfast, how's that?"
He knows it's the best he's going to get. Jemma, unfortunately, isn't about to put her own wellbeing above Skye's, no matter how much he wishes she would. As long as Skye is in her current condition, Jemma won't be touching anything stronger than paracetamol, for fear of impairing her judgment.
Short of forcibly drugging her—which is a little extreme, although admittedly tempting—there's not much he can do. So he just nods and returns to his breakfast. He keeps a careful eye on Jemma as they eat, taking in the careful way she's breathing and the pain written in the lines around her eyes.
He hopes he's right about the would-be kidnappers being HYDRA agents, and thus still alive. Because he owes one of them in particular a visit to express his displeasure at the way Jemma is suffering.
x
After breakfast, Jemma and Fitz head down to the lab. He doesn't know that they actually have anything to work on, at the moment—actually, he's pretty sure they don't. Most likely it's just for lack of anything better to do, an attempt to distract themselves from their worry about Skye. He'll join them in a bit, but first he has some things of his own to take care of. Not that he actually gets the chance to do anything more than shower and change before duty calls.
Coulson has returned to the trauma center to oversee Skye's transfer, even though he'll only be getting in the way and has, in fact, expressly forbid any of the rest of the team from doing the same. May, having filed their flight plan and seen to the Bus' refueling, is doing Tai Chi in the lounge, presumably trying to regain her control.
It was strange to see her lose it in the first place. It makes him feel a little better about his own recent struggles—if the woman who taught him to control his rage slips occasionally, who can blame him for doing the same? It was also a little satisfying, because for all that he and Quinn are apparently working for the same man (and didn't learning that piss Grant off), the guy is still an annoying scumbag. It was nice to see him bleeding all over the floor of the Cage.
The point is, with the two senior agents otherwise occupied, it falls to Grant to answer the call from HQ. He's in the cockpit, double checking the flight plan—seriously, Bethesda?—when the radio activates.
"SHIELD 616," a pleasant female says. "This is tower Sierra Foxtrot. Please respond."
Grant sits in the copilot's chair and activates the microphone.
"This is SHIELD 616."
"SHIELD 616, you have new orders. Authorization code Delta-Echo-Bravo-674."
"Acknowledged," he says, careful to keep his surprise out of his voice. That's a high-level code. These orders, whatever they are, aren't just coming from the Hub or the Triskelion. They're coming from a high-level agent—higher than Garrett. "What are our orders?"
"You will hand over your prisoner for interrogation," the woman says. "Followed by transport to the Fridge. Transmitting transfer papers now."
The monitor next to the pilot's chair beeps, and Grant leans over to see the transfer request appear on screen. It's all in order; they're to wait for a prisoner transport team to arrive from the nearby base and hand Quinn over immediately.
Damn it. Coulson is not going to like this, and, to be honest, neither does Grant. Quinn might've just been following Garrett's (or, to be more precise, the Clairvoyant's) orders, but he still shot a member of Grant's team—someone under his protection. He wants to personally see to it that Quinn pays, not hand him over and let someone else take care of it.
Still, orders are orders, and he can't refuse them.
"Transfer request received," he says. "Orders acknowledged. SHIELD 616 out."
"Tower Sierra Foxtrot out."
He flips off the microphone and sighs, then stands. There's a light on the control panel indicating that one of the cargo doors is open. Skye's med-pod must be getting loaded right now, which means that Coulson will be back on the Bus soon, if he isn't already. Grant will convey their new orders and let him decide what to do about them.
Sure enough, he finds Coulson in the storage area, watching as Skye's med-pod gets locked in place.
"HQ radioed in," Grant informs him. "They've ordered us to hand over Quinn for interrogation and transport to the Fridge. You want me to arrange the transfer?"
He can hear the steady beat of the heart monitor attached to Skye, but he can't bring himself to look at her. It's necessary, he reminds himself. Garrett is dying, and they need a way to save him. As long as they find that way—as long as Coulson gives them that way—Skye will be saved, too.
"No," Coulson says. "Quinn stays in our custody until I say otherwise."
"Yes, sir," Grant says. He hesitates, considering. He can't push too far, but judging by the air of quiet desperation that's clinging to Coulson at the moment, he thinks he might be able to get a little more information out of him if he asks in the right way.
It's worth a shot, at least. He doesn't like going in blind, and as things stand, that's exactly what's going to happen when they get to Bethesda.
"You sure about this?" he asks, careful to keep his tone doubtful and not challenging. "Taking her all the way to Bethesda?"
Coulson doesn't look away from Skye. "It's where my file says I was treated after New York."
"I understand," Grant says. He allows a little of his frustration (with the fact that he's been on this team for nearly six months and still hasn't accomplished his goal) to seep into his tone, knowing that Coulson will assume he's emotional over Skye. Which he's not. Obviously. "But what makes you think the doctors there will be able to do anything different? I know they saved you, but—"
"They did a lot more than save me," Coulson interrupts. He finally looks away from Skye to meet Grant's eyes. "It's time you know the truth."
"The truth, sir?" Grant asks.
"I wasn't dead for eight seconds," Coulson says. "Or forty. I was dead for days."
…Okay, he can't say he was expecting that. He knew going in that the eight seconds thing wasn't true, but days? Plural?
"I don't understand," he says. He lets his confusion show, because it's a natural reaction to that kind of statement. "How?"
"I don't know," Coulson says, looking back at Skye. "It was a complicated procedure—I have the file, but I don't understand more than ten words of the medical parts of it. What I do know is that somehow, the doctors at Bethesda brought me back to life after I was dead for several days, then gave me false memories of recovering in Tahiti in order to keep the procedure a secret."
His first reaction is triumph. After nearly a year and a half of planning and nearly six months of undercover work, he's finally got something on Coulson's resurrection. Because if he's got the file, then it's here on the Bus—likely a paper copy, to keep their team hacker out of it—and if it's here on the Bus, Grant can take it and copy it. It won't be easy, but the theft of secure information is something he's done often, and well. This is exactly the break he's been waiting for—exactly what he needs to save Garrett's life.
His second reaction, though, is pure anger. Because really? It took Skye getting shot to get this much out of Coulson? Grant's spent six months protecting this team, putting up with Coulson's weird way of doing things, his half-assed plans, his repeated exposure of the team in general (and Jemma in particular) to danger, and it takes this to get the truth?
If Coulson had false memories implanted (and he makes a mental note to look into that more, later; a machine that can implant false memories—and, presumably, erase real ones—could be incredibly useful to Garrett's plans), that suggests that he hasn't known the truth the whole time. He must've discovered it fairly recently. It would explain his strange behavior: the unexplained side-trips, the hours spent locked in his office, his erratic approach to their cases…
And that pisses him off. Because Grant knows that he's earned Coulson's trust by now, a thousand times over. Coulson should have said something about this. If he had just trusted the rest of the team with this information, which has so clearly been bothering him—if he hadn't been such a paranoid, secretive bastard—Skye wouldn't have needed to get shot. The trap on the train would've been entirely unnecessary.
This whole thing could have been avoided, if only Coulson was a little more trusting.
And, of course, there's the other thing: the fact that Coulson is so upset over Skye that he's sharing this information with Grant, after holding it back for weeks. The fact that Coulson is exposing their entire team to highly classified SHIELD secrets in order to save the life of a consultant.
And he had the nerve to accuse Grant of being emotionally compromised?
But he can't let his anger—or his triumph—show, so he keeps his expression confused and shakes his head.
"After several days?" he asks. "How is that even possible?"
Coulson shrugs. "Your guess is as good as mine."
Grant thinks quickly. He's sure he can get to the file—likely in Coulson's office, since that's also his bedroom—long enough to copy it, but it won't be easy. It's also very high risk, because if he gets caught, there's no ready excuse for those actions. Not to mention the fact that if Coulson didn't understand the file, chances are Grant won't, either, and while Centipede has plenty of doctors on staff…well, he doesn't entirely trust them.
But there is someone he trusts. Someone who could probably understand the file easily. Someone who would have no trouble sharing its contents with him, who would assume his interest to be simple curiosity.
"You said you didn't understand the medical parts of the file, sir?" he asks.
"No," Coulson says. He looks away from Skye, his expression thoughtful. He obviously realizes where Grant is going with this, and he's already considering it.
Grant says it anyway, just to make things clear. "We both know someone who would."
"Yeah," Coulson says. "Yeah, we do, don't we?"
x
After they take off, Coulson goes to fill Jemma and Fitz in—and to give them the file to read, so they can get to work on deciphering it. Grant, on the other hand, goes to speak to May. He does want to be in the lab while Jemma and Fitz study the medical reports, but he's sure they'll be at it for a while, and he needs to know just how much May knew about this.
So he goes to the cockpit. He sits down in the copilot's seat just as May is making an adjustment to the flight controls, and he takes note of the bruising on her knuckles.
"Hurt much?" he asks, making himself comfortable.
"I'm fine," May says, flexing her hand.
Grant takes a deep breath. "Coulson told me how long he was dead." He watches her face and takes in her complete lack of reaction. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"
May's face remains blank, which is unhelpful, although hardly a surprise. He needs to know what she thinks of this venture, but she's hardly about to come right out and tell him. He needs to prompt her, subtly.
Earlier, he used unrelated emotions and let Coulson assume they were about Skye. That won't work as well with May; she'd see right through it. If he's going to use his emotions to lead her into sharing hers (or what passes for sharing, when it comes to her), they need to be genuine.
What does he feel about Skye? About her condition?
Worry, mostly—that this won't work, that the miracle procedure Coulson received will be unavailable or unsuccessful, leaving Skye dead and Garrett no better off than before. That's the main thing he's feeling: worry over Skye's chances.
But it's not the only thing.
Honestly, he feels…guilty, almost. He didn't know what Garrett was planning, luring them onto that train. But if he had, he wouldn't have stopped it. He would have fought harder to keep Jemma on the Bus, definitely, but the rest of them? He'd have let them walk right into the trap, knowing that one of them would be near-fatally injured.
He's been over this before, when Centipede kidnapped Coulson. Prioritizing Garrett's life over the lives of his team, of people who are counting on Grant to protect them, people who have saved his life in the past and will doubtless do so again in the future…
He shakes off his contemplations, annoyed. This isn't the time for reflection. He's here for a reason; to determine May's attitude regarding this course of action.
"I saw Skye," he says, letting some of his honest worry into his voice. "In the pod. Machines filtering her blood, breathing for her." He looks down for a moment, putting away his worry; the quintessential specialist, unwilling to admit to feeling real emotions. "I'm not sure I'd make this play."
May looks at him.
"Fly halfway around the world, hoping for a second miracle," he clarifies.
"If Coulson thinks there's a chance in a million to save Skye," May says. "To save any of us? He'd take it."
That's approval in her voice. Question answered; she's backing Coulson's play because she thinks it's the right move, not just out of her endless loyalty to him.
Of course, her endless loyalty to him is still in effect, as evidenced by her next words about people like them needing people like Coulson. She says going after this miracle chance to save Skye's life makes more sense than killing the person responsible for her condition.
Maybe they do need people like Coulson, because personally, Grant doesn't see anything wrong with the second option. There's no reason they can't do both, right?
Their conversation is interrupted by the radio activating, SHIELD (tower Michael Tango, this time; they're out of Sierra Foxtrot's airspace) contacting them to inform them that they're in violation of directive 1297.
"Disobeying a direct order," Grant says. "We didn't hand Quinn over for interrogation."
May sighs. "Great."
There's the unmistakable sound of planes flying overhead, and he and May both lean forward to look out the windshield. There are two F-35s, one coming up on either side—apparently, SHIELD is taking this violation very, very seriously. Which fits the situation, considering the high-level authorization code he was given earlier. The higher-ups aren't big on disobedience.
Well, no one in SHIELD is, really—but the higher-ups are less than most.
"This is SHIELD 616," May says into the radio. "How do we proceed?"
"Prepare to be boarded and relinquish command," the woman on the radio responds.
Grant and May exchange surprised looks. Okay, that's a little drastic, even for such blatant disobedience. Who the hell gave this order, Pierce?
…Actually, that's a distinct possibility.
"I'll alert Coulson," he says quietly to May. She nods in acknowledgement, already setting the necessary controls to allow for docking.
He leaves the cockpit and heads for the lab. F-35s are too small for prisoner transport—there's not enough room to secure someone, and would leave the prisoner far too close to the flight controls. Which means there must be a third plane overhead, out of view of the windows. Likely a small transport, if it intends to dock on the Bus.
That would also explain the presence of the F-35s: they're here to serve as muscle, in case Coulson refuses to cooperate with whoever's in the transport.
Coulson's just reaching the top of the stairs as Grant steps on to the catwalk. He steps back to let him pass, then fills him in as they walk down the hallway and across the lounge.
The Bus shakes a little as the small transport docks.
"If they scratch my paint, I'm gonna be pissed," Coulson mutters. He sounds entirely serious.
"I'll await your orders, sir," Grant says.
Once Coulson's gone upstairs, Grant returns to the lounge to wait. If it comes to a fight, he'll be better off here, out in the open, than right next to the stairs, where whoever SHIELD sent will have the advantage of higher ground.
It probably won't come to a fight—Coulson's more the diplomacy type, especially when they're facing down two F-35s—but a little bit of caution never hurt anyone.
He doesn't have to wait long; it's not even five minutes later that he hears footsteps on the stairs, and Antoine Triplett walks into his view.
For a moment, Grant's frozen in pure surprise. He knows that after he took this assignment, Trip took over as Garrett's main specialist. That was based on Grant's recommendation; he's worked with Trip several times, and while he's not a viable candidate for recruitment to Garrett's cause, he's a good specialist that Grant knew he could trust to have Garrett's back.
If he's here, that means…
"Agent Grant Ward," Trip says, extending a hand.
Grant shakes it, putting aside his surprise. "Trip. Is Garrett upstairs?"
"Yeah," Trip says. "You know, he still talks about that thousand-yard shot you took in Bandung."
It's a running joke between the two of them to downplay each other's accomplishments, and Grant keeps his amusement off his face with effort. Trip is one of the few people he's worked with that he actually likes, and, despite the circumstances, it's nice to see him again.
"It was two thousand," he corrects. But this isn't really the time for joking, is it? "So, what are you doing here?"
Instead of answering, Trip takes a look around. He looks a little impressed.
"Man, this is like the Playboy jet," he says, clapping Grant on the arm. "I mean, a guy could get soft, bunking in a space like this. How did Coulson swing such a sweet ride?"
The words are probably intended to distract him from Trip's movement, which has put him between Grant and the Cage. Smart. But then, Trip is one of the best.
Of course, so is Grant.
"He died," he says simply.
Trip mulls that over. "That's tight." He takes a deep breath. "You wanna point me to the box you're keeping Quinn?"
Grant would be willing to bet that Trip has the Bus' blueprints memorized. It's just like him to try asking nicely first.
"HQ ordered Garrett to haul his ass to the Fridge for questioning," Trip continues. He takes a breath to continue, but then he's distracted. "Is that a full bar?"
"Welcome to it," Grant says, casually circling past him, closer to the Cage. "But, uh, Quinn stays put 'til Coulson says otherwise."
"Come on, man," Trip says. He steps a little closer. "Garrett was your SO, too, so you know how this works."
"Why don't you remind me?" Grant invites.
"Garrett wants Quinn," Trip says. "It's my job to make sure Garrett gets what he wants. Now, where is he?"
"Can't help you with that," Grant says.
Trip nods. "No worries. I'll find Quinn myself. I'm sure he's tucked between the Jacuzzi and the squash court."
He starts to step past Grant, who reaches out and grabs his arm to stop him.
"Hey," he starts to say, but Trip lashes out with a punch, and the fight is on.
Over the years, they've done a lot of fighting—both beside one another in the field and against one another in practice. So they're pretty evenly matched. Trip gets in a few good hits, Grant gets in a few better ones, and he has Trip backed against the seats when he hears Coulson calling him.
"Stand down," Coulson orders.
Grant steps away. Coulson is approaching, Garrett at his side, and Grant can't stop himself from looking his SO over. He doesn't look like he's any closer to death than he was the last time Grant saw him, but he must be. Otherwise, why come all this way? He has no doubt that Garrett purposefully maneuvered himself to be sent after Quinn, so that he had an excuse to be on the Bus. Presumably because he wants to be present when the secret to Coulson's survival is revealed, rather than being left to hear about it later from Grant.
That rankles a little—if Garrett was going to manipulate the situation, first to put Coulson in a position to reveal the secret, then to be present when it's revealed, why exactly did Grant have to join this team?—but he puts it aside. If nothing else, joining the team got him Jemma. And meeting her makes the trouble of the past six months absolutely worth it.
Coulson says that he and Garrett have come to an agreement; Garrett will be interrogating Quinn right here on the Bus as they continue to Bethesda.
"Well, I'm a bit of a sweet-talker when I need to be," Garrett says, falsely modest. "You wouldn't believe what I could talk this son of a gun into." HYDRA jokes, nice. "Good seeing you, son."
"You too, sir," Grant says honestly, shaking his hand. Garrett's the closest thing he's got to a real father, and, annoyance aside, he's missed him these last six months. "And thank you."
Garrett gives some sincere-sounding line about saving Skye being the priority. Then he gives Grant a piercing look.
"And I hear congratulations are in order," he says. "Word on the street is, you met your soulmate on this plane."
"I did, sir," Grant confirms. "Jemma Simmons. She's the team's biochemist."
"Well, congratulations," Garrett says, clapping him on the shoulder. "Although I have to say, I'm a little disappointed I had to hear it through the grapevine. I don't rate a phone call?"
"Sorry, sir," he says. "I didn't know what you were up to. Didn't want to risk compromising your position with unscheduled contact."
"Fair enough," Garrett says. "You're forgiven, just this once. But once I'm done with Quinn, I want to meet this soulmate of yours."
"Absolutely, sir," Grant nods. "I look forward to introducing you."
Garrett claps him on the shoulder again, then looks at Coulson.
"So, where are you keeping Quinn?"
"This way," Coulson says, and leads him towards the Cage.
Grant watches them go, then turns to look at Trip.
"Sorry about the," he breaks off, gesturing vaguely, unsure of how to put 'the thing where I was kicking your ass' into nicer words.
"No hard feelings," Trip shrugs. "You were backing Coulson's play. I can respect that."
Grant nods. It's pretty much what he expected; overall, Trip's a pretty chill guy.
"So, you met your soulmate," Trip says. "Congratulations."
"Thanks," Grant says. "You want to come meet her?"
He needs to catch Jemma and Fitz up, anyway.
"Sure," Trip says. "Lead the way."
They start down the hallway that leads to the stairs, and Trip gives him a sideways look.
"You're on a team together," he comments. "She go into the field?"
Grant sighs. "Unfortunately."
"How's that working out for you?"
"Jemma's an asset to the team," he admits. "We'd be screwed without her. But…"
"But that doesn't mean you have to like it?" Trip guesses.
"Yeah," he says. "Pretty much."
Trip shakes his head. "Better you than me, man."
As they reach the bottom of the stairs, Trip whistles. He's looking at Lola, and Grant shakes his head.
"Coulson's a collector," he says.
"Of cars?" Trip asks. "Because that is one sweet ride."
"Of old things," Grant corrects. "He'd lose his mind over your mom's Howling Commando stuff."
"I'll keep that in mind," Trip says thoughtfully, then glances over at the lab. "They look busy."
Jemma and Fitz are standing on either side of the table in the center of the lab, heads bent over what must be Coulson's file. There are papers and pictures spread out all over the table, and Fitz is holding what looks like an x-ray up to the lights, squinting. They do look busy, and what they're working on is undoubtedly important, but they need to be caught up on the situation.
"They're always busy," he says mildly, and leads the way into the lab.
The doors are actually closed, for once, and Jemma and Fitz look over as they hiss open.
"Grant!" Jemma greets him cheerfully. Her smile fades a little as she looks at Trip; she's obviously confused by his presence. "Hello."
"Jemma Simmons, Leo Fitz," he says. "This is Antoine Triplett. He's a specialist."
"What's he doing here?" Fitz demands. He walks forward and around to the end of the table, obviously aiming to block Trip's view of the file spread over it. "And, for that matter, how did he get on board?"
"SHIELD sent him," Grant says. "We were supposed to hand Quinn over in Zurich, and when we didn't…"
"We were in violation of directive 1297," Fitz completes, shaking his head.
"Well, that explains the plane we heard earlier," Jemma says. "I suppose we should have anticipated it. But Quinn is…not here, so—?"
"My SO and Agent Coulson came to an agreement," Trip explains. "He's interrogating Quinn here instead of removing him. I'm just down here to meet you."
Jemma blinks a little. "I'm sorry?"
"Ward and I go way back," Trip says. "Couldn't pass up the chance to meet his soulmate."
He extends a hand, and Jemma shakes it, looking suddenly thoughtful.
"You wouldn't happen to be Trip, would you?" she asks. "From Vienna?"
Grant, caught off guard, huffs a laugh. He forgot that he told her that story. To be fair, that was months and months ago. He's surprised she remembers.
"Ward told you about that?" Trip asks, grinning.
"He did," Jemma confirms. "It was…quite a story."
"In my defense," Trip says. "That mime came out of nowhere."
She nods seriously. "Of course it did."
Trip shakes his head and extends his hand to Fitz. "And Agent Fitz. I've heard a lot about you."
"Have you?" Fitz asks, shaking his hand.
"About both of you, really," Trip corrects. "It's an honor to meet you both. That quick concrete of yours saved my life in…well, it saved my life. But you probably get that a lot."
"Not nearly enough, actually," Fitz mutters. Jemma elbows him.
"It's always nice to hear," she says. "And it's nice to meet you, as well."
Grant casts an eye over the various papers spread over the table. It looks like they're only about halfway through the file, and, since they're kind of on a time limit, here, he should probably wrap this up.
Trip seems to be on the same wavelength; he smiles at Jemma and Fitz, then takes a step back.
"Well," he says. "Now that we've met, I'll let you get back to work. It looks important."
"It is," Jemma confirms. "Thank you."
"We can access the security feeds in the briefing room," Grant tells Trip. "Including the one from the Cage, if you'd like to check in on the interrogation."
"Sounds good," Trip says easily.
"Just one thing," he says. He crosses the room, grabs one of the stools from the counter, and wheels it back over to Jemma's side of the table.
She looks at it, then back at him. "Is this a hint?"
"A request," he corrects. "Please sit down. Staying on your feet all day doesn't help anyone."
"It's very sweet of you to be concerned," Jemma says, smiling. She goes on to her toes to kiss his cheek, then sits down, wheeling the stool closer to the table. "Thank you."
"I don't suppose I could talk you into—"
"No," she interrupts, amused. "I will not be taking any fentanyl, thank you."
He shrugs. "Worth a shot. We'll be upstairs."
"We'll let you know if we find anything," Jemma says.
"Let us know how the interrogation goes," Fitz adds.
"Sure," he agrees.
He and Trip leave the lab and head up the stairs.
"Fentanyl?" Trip asks as they go. "That's a pretty strong opioid. What happened?"
"There was a kidnapping attempt three weeks ago," Grant says. "Skye fought the attackers off, but one of them got in some lucky hits. Bruised Jemma's ribs."
"Ouch," Trip says, fully sympathetic. "She won't take anything for it?"
"Not while Skye's on life support, at least," he sighs. He understands Jemma's reluctance, and would expect nothing less from her, but that doesn't make seeing her in pain any easier.
The discussion reminds him that he still wants words with Garret, but unfortunately, that will have to wait. After all, every inch of the Bus is under constant video surveillance—and that conversation is one that he can not afford to have overheard.
x
Things happen quickly, after that. He and Trip manage to catch the last few minutes of Quinn's interrogation, where he confirms Grant's suspicions that he was ordered to shoot Skye in order to force Coulson's hand.
The interrogation has barely finished when Jemma comes upstairs with a problem. Streiten has gone off the grid, and the rest of the doctors listed in the file don't exist. Neither does the operating room the procedure supposedly took place in. Basically, they're at a dead end.
And Skye is running out of time.
Luckily, Jemma and Fitz come through once again. In Coulson's file, Jemma discovers the name of a drug—or designation, rather, as the file only calls it GH-325—that apparently causes cellular regeneration. Fitz somehow gets access to the archives at the Triskelion, and that leads them to a file on a collapsed World War II bunker called the Guest House. The file has only ever been accessed by Director Fury, and that, combined with the GH part of the drug in question, points to the Guest House being the most likely location for Coulson's life-saving procedure.
It's their best bet. Mostly because it's their only bet.
The Guest House is only two hours out from their current location. Since they've got absolutely no idea what's waiting for them there, they can only outline the barest minimum of a plan. It takes all of five minutes, and when it's done, Garrett turns to Grant expectantly.
"So," he says. "About this soulmate of yours."
"She's in the lab," Grant says. "Still going over Coulson's file."
"Lead the way."
"Ward," Coulson says. "Send Fitz up, would you?"
"Yes, sir," Grant agrees. Then he leads the way out of the briefing room.
"That you have a soulmate isn't the only word on the street," Garrett says as they cross the lounge.
"No?" Grant asks.
"No," Garrett confirms. "Word is, she almost got kidnapped a few weeks ago."
"That she did, sir," Grant says, a little relieved. Obviously, they can't speak freely, but they can talk around it. He might actually be about to get some answers.
"What happened?" Garrett asks.
Grant fills him in, and Garrett nods along.
"Sounds like they weren't trying too hard," he says, when Grant's finished.
"No, they weren't," he agrees, careful to keep his voice casual. "Guess they'll have to try harder next time."
"If they try again at all," Garrett says. "They have to know you'll be watching for them now. Might decide they'd be better off going after some other biochemist."
That's the confirmation he was hoping for. Garrett was behind the attempt, he meant for it to fail, and he won't be trying again. Which means that, as Grant suspected, he was never actually after Jemma. He just wanted people to think he was.
"I almost hope not," Grant says as they reach the bottom of the stairs. "I have a few things to say about the injuries Jemma received in the attempt."
Garrett claps him on the shoulder. "I'm sure you'll get your chance, son."
Which is the other confirmation he wanted: the men who tried to kidnap Jemma are still alive. Garrett, being as careful and paranoid as he is, almost definitely has details on their new identities. Meaning that, as soon as the opportunity presents itself, Grant will be able to go after them and express his displeasure in person.
Excellent.
Fitz is alone in the lab; a glance at the monitor shows that Jemma is in the med-pod with Skye, checking on the machines surrounding her.
"Fitz," Grant says, pulling the engineer's attention from the file he's pouring over. "Coulson wants to see you."
"Right," Fitz says. He closes the file and sets it on the table, then turns to go, stopping when he catches sight of Garrett.
"Agent John Garrett," Garrett says, offering his hand. "You must be Agent Fitz."
"Yes, I am," Fitz says, shaking Garrett's hand. "Nice to meet you."
"You, too," Garrett says. "You do good work. I've seen the specs for that gun of yours. It's genius."
Fitz looks pleased, and no wonder—two acknowledgements of his brilliance in one day.
"Thank you," he says. He looks at Grant. "Simmons will be back in a moment. She's just checking on Skye."
"Thanks," Grant says.
Fitz nods and leaves the lab.
"Kind of a ridiculous name, though," Garrett says, once he's gone. "He really calls it the 'night-night' gun?"
"Yeah," Grant sighs. "He really does. Jemma's tried to talk him out of it, but…"
Garrett shakes his head, bemused. "Scientists."
"Tell me about it," Grant agrees quietly, as he hears footsteps approaching from the storage area.
"Fitz, have you found anything on—oh!" Jemma stops in the doorway, surprised.
"Coulson wanted to see Fitz upstairs," Grant tells her.
"Oh, dear," Jemma sighs. She crosses the room and lays her tablet on the counter. "What are the chances that that isn't because he intends to take Fitz into the Guest House?"
"Let's just say they're not great," Grant says.
It was one of the few things they were able to agree on during the planning; they need someone who has at least some idea of what they need to help Skye, in case the doctors refuse to cooperate, and they can't bring Jemma in. Partially because she's injured, and because Grant would never allow it, but mostly because they need her to stay on the Bus and monitor Skye.
Jemma sighs again, then turns her attention to Garrett.
"Hello," she says. "I don't believe we've met. Jemma Simmons."
"John Garrett," he says, offering his hand.
She shakes it with a bright smile. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Grant's told me so much about you."
"Has he?" Garrett asks. "I wish I could say the same. You know, I had to fly all this way just to get confirmation you existed?"
"Oh, really," Jemma says, with a little look at Grant. He shrugs. "Well, Grant's a very private person, but I'll admit that does surprise me. He has so many good things to say about you."
He feels the need to defend himself, even though she's only teasing.
"I had no idea where you were or what you were doing," he says. "I wasn't about to share Jemma's name over an unsecured line."
Jemma blinks at him. "Well, that's…certainly cautious of you."
"No, he's got a point," Garrett admits. "It's true, the people I've been after lately aren't the kind you'd want to know about your soulmate."
"The things a specialist has to consider," she muses, shaking her head. "It's all beyond me, I'm afraid."
"Likewise," Grant says, briefly distracted by an equation scrawled on a post-it note attached to one of the cabinets. Or at least he thinks it's an equation. For all he knows, it might be a recipe written in Greek. An equation seems more likely, though. "Your work is—"
"Not nearly so dangerous as yours," Jemma interrupts.
He smiles to himself, amused. She always does that—interrupts whenever she thinks he's about to insult his own intelligence. Not that he considers it an insult to say that someone with two PhDs is smarter than him, but he appreciates her efforts to bolster his ego.
"In any case," Jemma says, turning to Garrett. "Would you like to sit down, Agent Garrett? We've a while to the Guest House, I believe, and I'd like a chance to get to know the man of whom Grant speaks so fondly."
"I'd love to," Garrett says, taking the offered stool. "And call me John, please."
"Jemma, then," she says, taking a stool of her own.
The next hour and a half is…pretty much everything Grant would have wished for, if he'd ever given any thought to Jemma and Garrett meeting. Garrett seems thoroughly charmed by Jemma, and of course, he's never met anyone he couldn't convince to like him. It doesn't look like an act, though; he appears to genuinely like Jemma, and be genuinely liked in return.
Garrett asks several astute questions about Jemma's second doctoral dissertation, when they get on the topic of her education, and Jemma is obviously pleased by them. The fact that he knows enough about the subject to ask questions tells Grant that he's done his homework on Jemma, but that's only to be expected, really.
Eventually, the conversation turns to Grant, which is…slightly awkward. He's tempted to leave, but feels compelled to remain so that he can defend himself. It's entirely necessary (there are several baseless accusations of recklessness), and he does his best to steer them back to talk of Jemma and her many good points, with only partial success.
All in all, it's all he could have wanted from a first meeting between his soulmate and his mentor. Actually, he's strongly reminded of his own first meeting with Jemma's parents. All that's missing are the baby pictures, which—fortunately—Garrett is not in possession of.
Garrett's in the middle of telling Jemma about the op in Manila that ended with Grant needing to get fished out of the Pasig River. Grant's trying to convince them that it was an entirely deliberate, strategic move—with no success, partially because of how polluted that river is; no one would swim in it willingly—when the alarm on his watch goes off.
"We're ten minutes out," he says. "I need to suit up."
"I should get Skye ready for transport," Jemma says, glancing at the monitor, which is still displaying the security feed from the med-pod. Then she turns a stern look on Grant. "Do be careful, won't you? One injured member of this team is enough."
"Hey, I'm always careful," he says, raising his hands in innocence. "There's no need for that look."
"Don't worry, Jemma," Garrett says. "I'll watch his back."
"And your own," Jemma says. It sounds more like an order than a suggestion. "You both need to be careful."
"What makes you think I won't be?" Garrett asks, obviously entertained.
Jemma favors him with an unimpressed look. "You trained Grant, didn't you? He had to get those bad habits from somewhere."
"Gee, thanks," Grant says, amused.
"Anytime," she assures him, then tugs him down so she can kiss his cheek. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to see to Skye. Good luck."
"We won't need it," Garrett says cockily. "But thanks."
She nods and heads back into the storage area.
"I like her," Garrett says, watching her go. For a moment, Grant can't read his expression, but it quickly clears, replaced by a familiar smirk. "She's got spine."
"Yeah," Grant says. "There's no arguing that." He checks his watch again. "I need to go upstairs. We have a secondary armory here in the cargo bay, sir. You can help yourself if you don't want to go back to your transport."
Garrett stands. "I just might take you up on that. If your weapons are in decent condition."
"They are," Grant assures him, leading the way out of the lab. "I'm responsible for their upkeep."
He shows Garrett to the weapons crates in the cargo bay, and Garrett waves him off.
"I'll look through these," he says. "You should go change, son. We've got a miracle drug to find."
"Yes, sir," Grant agrees. "We do."
They exchange a loaded look, the closest either of them will get to acknowledging just how much is riding on the GH-325, and then Grant heads upstairs.
x
Ten minutes later, they've landed outside the bunker and Coulson is giving the final briefing. There's been no response to May's attempts to raise contact, so they have no idea what they're walking into. They do know that it's not a SHIELD facility, at least not technically, so they're all bearing heavy arms, just in case.
'All' here means Grant, Garrett, Coulson, and Fitz. Fitz is accompanying them in case things go sideways and they need to grab the drug and run. Trip is staying put—ostensibly because his medical training might prove useful to Jemma, if Skye should take a turn for the worse, but more likely because he would stick close to Garrett. Garrett, Grant suspects, is going to manufacture an opportunity to separate from the rest of the group so he can grab a sample of the GH-325 himself.
Of course, Grant will take the opportunity as well, should it arise, but. He'd just have to figure out a way to get it to Garrett discreetly anyway, so it'll be more convenient if Garrett can just get the sample himself.
The best case scenario, of course, is that the doctors will welcome them with open arms and immediately invite them to bring Skye inside so they can save her. However, Grant's not holding his breath on that one. It's just really not how his luck goes.
Plus, this is a highly classified facility to which they definitely do not have an invitation. Chances are, they're going to have to fight their way in. Hence the heavy arms.
Grant examines the facility as they approach it. It doesn't look like much, just a bunker set into the mountainside. Nothing that would draw any attention from the air. Which is the whole point, of course. He just really hopes it has what they need—and that it's not abandoned.
He keeps his gun (a UMP45, for this op) at the ready as they reach the front door. His hands are as steady as always, but his heart is racing. Skye's life is on the line here, there's no doubt about that—if this doesn't work, if there's no GH-325 here, then she's dead. But Garrett's life is on the line, too. This is everything they've been working for, everything they've been hoping for. This miracle drug of Coulson's may be the only thing capable of saving Garrett's life.
Basically, there's a lot riding on this op.
They hit an immediate snag, in that none of them are familiar with the code phrase they're given when they ring the doorbell. Which means that none of them know the countersign, and Fitz can't find it in the database, either. The guard, understandably, is unimpressed by Coulson's attempted diplomacy, and refuses to let them in without the countersign.
"Pretty please it is," Garrett comments, and gives Grant a nod.
He pulls out his sidearm and uses it to shoot the security camera above the door. Then Fitz gets to work hacking the door. He makes quick work of it, of course, and it's not long at all before they're heading into the bunker.
There's a long hallway leading down to an elevator, and they waste no time running for it. Whatever security is present will obviously know they're coming—for one thing, there aren't a lot of reasons to shoot out a surveillance camera—and the longer it takes them to reach the elevator, the more time the Guest House security has to prepare for them.
Of course, they don't actually go down in the elevator. That would just be stupid. Instead, they get inside it, wait for Fitz to place a camera on the wall, and then climb to the roof of the elevator car as it descends.
When it reaches the bottom level, Fitz uses his tablet to access the feed from the camera.
"There's an antechamber and a set of glass doors," he reports. "Can't see much beyond that. Lights are all out."
Inconvenient, but not unexpected.
"Well, they know we're coming," Coulson says. "Let's go say hello."
Grant drops down into the car, submachine gun at the ready. There's no one in sight, though, and he calls the clear over his shoulder. Garrett comes down next, followed by Coulson. It's a few seconds before Fitz joins them, and he offers an explanation before anyone can ask.
"Comms are down," he says. "There's too much mountain on top of us."
Garrett makes a joke about Jemma not hearing them die, which, predictably, doesn't go over too well with Fitz.
"Humor, son," Garrett tells him. "You Brits are too serious! Besides, if the job was easy…"
"Wouldn't be any fun," Grant completes.
He and Garrett exchange looks, and, despite himself, Grant smirks a little. Everything else aside, he's missed Garrett. It's nice to be fighting beside him again. And infiltrating an enemy base? To the two of them, this is old hat.
"I'm not afraid," Fitz says defensively, walking past Grant and Garrett. They hurry to follow, needing to remain in position to protect him. "Not yet. I suspect the real danger won't happen until we breach that bulletproof glass."
He points out a door that probably leads to a stairwell back to the surface, then examines the glass doors. Coulson asks if he thinks he can get them inside.
"To certain horrible death?" Fitz asks. "Absolutely."
Out of the corner of his eye, Grant sees Garrett grin. He can't help but be a little proud that his mentor seems to be liking Grant's new team—specifically, Jemma and Fitz—even though Garrett is the whole reason he's on the team in the first place. It's not like having his approval changes anything, but…it's still nice to have.
Grant keeps his gun up as Fitz hacks the doors. Coulson orders them to find cover as soon as they get inside, then gives Fitz the nod. The doors slide open silently, and Grant and Garrett lead the way into the main room. All four of them are able to find cover behind the desks before the doors slide shut behind them, at which point security begins to open fire. Luckily, they're all safely out of range behind the desks.
Coulson waits until the gunfire stops to warn the shooters that if they continue to fire, the four of them will retaliate. Of course, he doesn't even have the chance to finish his sentence before the gunfire starts up again, and Grant moves back, away from the desk.
"I count two hostiles," he says.
"Copy that," Garrett grins. "Ready?"
Grant gives him a nod, and after a beat, they both stand and begin to open fire. Grant takes the one on the left, Garrett takes the one on the right, and absolutely nothing gets accomplished, because everyone has proper cover.
Oh, well. It was worth a shot.
Coulson asks Fitz if he has any "little flash things" and, after a look at Grant, takes it and tosses it forward. Grant, with his advanced warning, keeps his eyes closed until the hum of the flash thing—does it have a name? He doesn't remember, at the moment—fades, at which point he opens them and opens fire simultaneously.
The flash obviously took the security guard by surprise, and he doesn't make it back to his cover in time. Grant hears him grunt as he manages to hit him, but continues firing; he knows, from long experience, that Garrett will take advantage of the other guard's probable distraction at his partner's injury. Sure enough, it's only a few seconds later that Garrett calls the all-clear.
Grant moves forward to check the status of the guard he hit, and finds him missing. There's a clear blood trail, however, and he and Coulson follow it. Garrett stays behind to guard Fitz, who's working on getting the lights back up.
The blood trail doesn't lead very far; it's only a few minutes before they find the other guard, slumped against a wall. He's not looking too good, but Grant kicks his gun away from him, anyway. To do otherwise would just be stupid.
Coulson crouches next to the guard and takes the key ring off of his belt while promising to get him medical help. Unfortunately, it turns out that won't be easy; according to the guard, med staff doesn't stay on site.
"We're looking for a drug," Coulson says urgently. "GH-325. It might help you, too."
"Do I k-know you?" the guard asks. He's fading fast.
"I don't know," Coulson whispers. "I-I might have spent some time here a while back."
"Then you know about…the timer," the guard says.
Somehow, Grant has a feeling he's not talking about the soulmate type. Which leaves…
"We got a problem!" Garrett hollers.
Coulson glances over his shoulder, then back at the guard. His eyes are closed; Coulson checks his pulse, then shakes his head.
"He's dead," he says. "Let's go."
It's not really the time to reflect on it, but as they run back to the entrance, Grant suddenly feels much better about this whole thing. He hadn't realized just how guilty he'd been feeling—about Skye, and about Coulson's kidnapping a few months ago—until right now, as the guilt disappears. He's been torn over his decision to place Garrett's life above the well-being of his teammates, unsure whether it was the right thing to do.
He knows now that it was. After all, Coulson didn't say a single thing against killing these two security agents. He obviously sees no problem at all in placing Skye's life above the lives of these two men. Knowing, having proof, that Coulson would make the same choices as Grant has, does a lot to make him feel better about his actions these past few months.
Of course it's okay to prioritize the life of someone he cares about over the lives of others who mean less to him. It's only natural, and it's perfectly acceptable. Otherwise Coulson—widely accepted as one of SHIELD's most moral agents—wouldn't do it.
"Semtex," Garrett announces as they enter the main room. He's looking up at the ceiling, searching. "The whole place is rigged to blow."
"There's enough explosive to bring down the whole mountain on top of us," Fitz says. He sounds strangely calm about it—more resigned than worried.
Grant's eye catches on something red, and he picks it up. It's a timer, neon red numbers counting backwards, presumably attached to the Semtex.
"Sir," he says, gaining Coulson's attention. He holds up the timer. "Less than ten minutes."
Coulson, looking horrified, moves forward to examine it.
"It's probably a failsafe," Grant says. "If the guards had eliminated us, they'd stop the timer."
Coulson picks up his train of thought. "Since they didn't…"
"It's some kind of emergency override," Fitz says. "Skye could probably get past it, but I can't hack the panel, which means we're trapped in here."
Coulson looks to Garrett.
"You're the guy who taught Ward how to disarm nuclear bombs," he barks. "Figure out a way to get us out of here." Then he turns to Fitz. "Let's go find the drug."
Garrett looks at Grant as Coulson and Fitz leave the room, a silent question about Coulson's statement.
"I don't know," he shrugs. "We haven't dealt with any nukes."
They really haven't, which means Coulson has no reason to know about Grant's experience with them. Garrett shakes his head, apparently accepting this.
"I want a closer look at these explosives," he says. "You work on the timer."
"Yes, sir," Grant agrees, and gets to work dismantling it.
They work in silence for a few moments, until the echoes of Fitz and Coulson's footsteps fade, and then Grant speaks up. This may be the best chance he gets to speak freely with Garrett, and he's going to take advantage of it. He'll have to be quick, to make sure they finish before Fitz and Coulson return, but that's okay. He only has two things to say.
"The kidnapping attempt," he says quietly, keeping his eyes on the timer. "A warning?"
"And insurance," Garrett agrees.
"For what?" he asks.
"You know."
He does know. Garrett has plans within plans within plans, with fail-safes and back-ups for each one. This includes plans for what to do if his position as the Clairvoyant is ever revealed to SHIELD. Some of the plans rely on HYDRA to get him out of custody. Most of them rely on Grant. The problem with those, of course, is that as Garrett's protégé, suspicion would naturally fall on Grant as soon as Garrett was exposed.
By attempting—or appearing to attempt—to kidnap Jemma, Garrett sets up 'proof' of Grant's innocence. Should he ever be found out, all he has to do is make a comment about the kidnapping—enough to be questioned on it, at which point he can say that if he had a gun to Jemma's head, Grant would do anything he ordered. Which, naturally, will suggest to his interrogators that Grant would not do what he ordered if Jemma's life weren't in danger.
It won't be enough to entirely clear his name, of course—it's purely circumstantial—but it'll be enough to allay suspicions.
It'll probably never be necessary, but, despite that, it's an entirely reasonable precaution, and a good plan. Still…
"Is that a problem?" Garrett asks, voice deceptively mild.
"No, sir," Grant says automatically. It's the only acceptable response. It does lead nicely to the other thing he needs to address, though. "But we're gonna need to have words about the injuries those men gave Jemma."
Garrett laughs. "I would expect nothing less, son."
Good. He's glad to have that off his chest, even if the bulk of the discussion will have to wait for another time. If they get another time, that is; the timer's useless.
"The timer doesn't control the explosion," he reports, giving it one last look. "It's just a clock." He drops it. "Detonator must be somewhere else."
"It's not in here," Garrett says, joining him by the desk. "I'd've found it."
They both look around the room, as if hoping the detonator will appear out of thin air.
"There's no time to search the whole compound," Garrett continues, frustrated.
Then he stops, and the two of them exchange looks. The idea seems to hit them at the same time, and they approach the bulletproof glass. They're on the same page here, as always.
Garrett says it aloud, anyway. "Maybe we can take some Semtex, use it on the doors."
They spend a few minutes removing Semtex from the walls, and then Garrett gives him the nod, and Grant leaves him to it. He needs to find Fitz and Coulson; they're out of time.
The lack of comms works against him here; he has to check every door he passes, and it takes him nearly a minute to find Fitz and Coulson. They're in a room marked Biohazard Containment, which is not encouraging, opening a refrigerator—the scientific type of refrigerator, that is, like Jemma keeps specimens and samples in.
"Time to go," he tells them. "We couldn't stop it. Four minutes and counting."
"Almost there," Coulson says, as Fitz opens a container in the fridge.
It releases ominous green smoke as he lifts the lid, and Grant barely keeps himself from taking a step back. He looks up to distract himself, and, without surprise, notes the explosives lining the ceiling.
"Semtex throughout here, as well," he comments.
"This is it," Fitz says. "325." He removes a single test tube from the container and holds it up. "This is the one we want."
"We gotta go," Coulson says. "Get it up to Simmons."
"Yeah," Fitz agrees, and runs for the door. Grant claps him on the shoulder as he passes, more than a little relieved.
He's worried, too, though, and not just because they apparently only found one vial of the GH-325. (Only enough for Skye, then—not enough for Garrett, and not enough for Jemma to study.) He's also concerned because Coulson doesn't make a move to leave.
"Sir," he says.
"I'll be right behind you," Coulson promises. "Go!"
He's a little concerned about the way Coulson's just standing there, staring, but he's not about to drag him out of here. So he obeys the order and runs for the main room.
He finds Garrett and Fitz working on wiring the doors with Semtex, and stands back. There's not really enough room for three people to work on the doors, and he's not about to get in the way and slow things down just to have something to do, so he contents himself with keeping an eye on the timer.
Which, as it happens, has just hit three minutes.
He ignores the lecture on explosives Garrett is giving Fitz in favor of watching the hallway, but there's no sign of Coulson. Grant really does not want to be the one to explain to May that Coulson is dead because he got left behind in an underground bunker wired to explode; if Coulson doesn't show soon, someone's going to have to go after him.
"Agent Ward," Garrett calls, as he and Fitz move away from the doors. "Would you do the honors?"
"Thought you'd never ask," he says, joining them. He makes sure they're all sheltered behind the wall, then pulls out his sidearm and shoots the Semtex, setting it off. A simple, if inelegant, solution to the problem of the lack of detonator.
One of the doors has been blown partially off its track, and as Grant tries to pull it farther off, Garrett forces the other open to create a big enough hole to fit through.
"Can you slip through?" he asks Fitz.
"Yeah," he says.
"Go!" Garrett orders. "Get that drug up there."
Fitz obeys, squeezing through the doors and taking off, grabbing his bag as he goes. So that's Skye (hopefully) and Fitz saved, at least. Now, about the rest of them…
Garrett shouts for Coulson, but there's no response, and after a minute, he turns to Grant. He orders him to leave, and Grant starts to protest before he can stop himself.
"Go!" Garrett interrupts. "Save the girl."
He takes off across the room before Grant can argue any further. He considers following but, after a brief hesitation, squeezes through the gap in the doors instead. After all, orders are orders, and he won't disobey Garrett's. He never does. In any case, this is the perfect opportunity for Garrett to search out another sample of the GH-325. He just wishes it wasn't under such a time limit.
If Coulson gets Garrett killed…
But he can't think about that.
The elevator is locked down, unsurprisingly, so he goes through the door Fitz pointed out earlier. It does indeed lead to a stairwell, and he takes the steps three at a time. Fitz obviously did not do the same, as Grant meets him right outside the door at the top.
"Where's Coulson?" Fitz demands breathlessly, as they race across the concrete towards the Bus.
"Garrett went back for him," Grant says.
Fitz breathes out a curse as they reach the bottom of the ramp. He speeds up, hurtling through the lab and towards the med-pod. Grant's only a few steps behind.
"May," he says, activating his comm. "Where are you?"
"Cockpit," she says quickly.
He rounds the corner into the med-pod to find Jemma questioning Fitz about the GH-325.
"Get us off the ground," he orders May. "Or it'll fall out from under us."
He hopes Garrett and Coulson are on board by now, but even if they're not, they can't afford to wait around for them.
May doesn't say anything, but he can hear the vertical thrusters firing up, and the plane begins to lift just as the distinct sound of an explosion drowns them out. He really hopes Garrett and Coulson are on board.
Jemma accepts the GH-325 from Fitz and takes an empty syringe from a nearby tray.
"I suppose anything's worth a try, at this point," she says, mostly to herself, as she fills the syringe. "I'm giving her all of it."
Fitz places a hand on her shoulder. "Do what you have to do."
Jemma's just finished emptying the syringe into Skye's arm when Coulson appears in the doorway, shouting not to give it to her.
Seriously? They all almost died for the GH-325, and suddenly Coulson's changed his mind? What the hell?
Jemma stares at Coulson as the various machines monitoring Skye go wild. She's flat-lining.
"I was losing her anyway," she says. "What harm could it do?"
Skye's heartbeat improves briefly, and there's a moment of hope…until she starts seizing, at least.
"She's spiking," May says.
Jemma has one hand pressed to Skye's forehead, looking helpless, and when Coulson demands answers, she just shakes her head.
"I don't know," she says, tearily.
"Do something!" Fitz demands frantically. "We have to do something!"
But there's obviously nothing to be done, because Jemma just stands there, stroking Skye's hair. He can see her lips moving, but can't make out what she's saying, over the chaos in the room. The tension is rising, reaching a boiling point as Skye seizes, and Grant can do nothing but stand helplessly by, watching. He can't fight fatal wounds.
Eventually, though—after seconds or hours, Grant couldn't say—the seizure stops. Skye collapses back onto the bed, and the beeping of the heart monitor returns to a steady rhythm.
"Her heartbeat," Jemma says. "She's stabilizing."
"Simmons?" Coulson presses, sounding a little faint.
Jemma nods, beaming, then looks back down at Skye, obviously trying to hold back tears.
"Can someone tell me what we just saw?" Grant asks. He knows what they just saw—he has eyes—but he can't believe it. Did some drug they pulled out of a fridge on a whim, on a fool's hope, actually just save Skye's life?
"Girl's a fighter," Trip says. "What was that stuff you just gave her?"
Wow. How did Trip miss the memo on that? Usually he's more on top of things; he must have been distracted by something. Maybe the bar.
Jemma brushes off the question, which Trip accepts easily enough. Possibly because she's actually crying now, albeit silently. Grant twitches with the urge to go to her, but the room is very crowded, and there's no way to get to Jemma's side without knocking over half his team. He distracts himself by glancing at Garrett, who gives him a barely perceptible nod.
So, he got a sample of the GH-325 after all. Good. They've got proof it works, both on the dead (Coulson), and on the nearly so (Skye).
He'll want to do some testing on it before taking it, of course, but…Garrett's life is saved. Grant feels almost dizzy with relief. After all these years of worrying, of wondering, of fearing that each moment might be the last…Garrett finally has the tool to save himself from the death SHIELD would have given him in Sarajevo.
"You did it," May says to Coulson, smiling.
Coulson doesn't share her relief, though. He takes one last look at Skye, then leaves. May steps slightly out of the med-pod to speak with Garrett in the hall and Grant, next to the door, hears her ask Garrett if something happened down there.
"I'm not sure," Garrett says. "One minute, he was fine. The next, it was like he had seen a ghost."
Grant doesn't have time to ponder that, because it's at that point that Jemma brushes away her tears and turns to look at them all.
"All right," she says. "Skye is, for the moment, on the mend. Now I need all of you to leave while I examine her."
"Simmons—" Fitz starts.
"I can't work with all of you in here," Jemma insists. "I'll let you know as soon as my examination is complete, but you need to leave."
She chases them all out, and, some more reluctantly than others, they leave the med-pod and gather in the lab, instead. Coulson is nowhere to be seen, and after a glance at the monitor—still displaying the security feed from the med-pod—May leaves, presumably in search of him.
"So," Trip says after a while. "You have fun?"
"Oh, sure," Fitz mutters. "Getting shot at, exposed to biohazards, nearly blown up…what's not to love?"
Trip raises his eyebrows. "Sounds like a party. Sorry to miss it."
"Next time," Garrett promises, clapping him on the shoulder.
"How were things here?" Grant asks.
"Mostly quiet," Trip says. "But whatever it was you brought from that bunker, you brought it just in time. Your friend was in bad shape. Coded twice."
They all look to the monitor, where Jemma is currently pulling the blanket back over Skye, apparently having finished checking her wounds.
"That soulmate of yours is something else," Trip muses. "You lucked out, Ward."
"I did," he agrees, because it's very, very true.
Coulson and May must have been watching the feed from upstairs, because they enter the lab from the cargo bay only seconds before Jemma appears from the storage area. She's smiling, but shakes her head as she strips off her gloves.
"Well, I can't explain it," she says. "But Skye has drastically improved. We'll need to monitor her for side effects and deterioration, of course, but…I'm confident in saying that she's out of the woods now."
The last of the tension in the lab disappears, and Grant sighs in relief. Skye's alive. Garrett's got the cure he needs. He managed to accomplish this mission with no one determining the nature of his involvement with the team. Everything's going to be fine.
Now, he thinks, eyeing Jemma (who's looking worryingly pale). What are the chances he'll be able to convince his impossibly stubborn soulmate to take something for the pain she's obviously suffering?
"Well," Garrett says, distracting him. "I'm glad to hear it. And now that that's settled, I think it's time we took our leave."
"Of course," Coulson says. "Thanks for your help, John."
"Anytime," Garrett dismisses.
Fitz says something quietly to Jemma, then heads back into the storage area, presumably to sit with Skye. May, after exchanging a nod with Garrett, follows.
Grant has a feeling there will be no shortage of people willing to sit with Skye as she recovers. He's grateful; it means he's more likely to be able to pull Jemma away from her.
"I'll go sign those transfer papers," Coulson says. "They're still on my desk. I hope."
Watching him leave the lab, Grant doesn't think it's his imagination that the light-hearted act is a little less sincere than usual. Something in that bunker shook him. But what?
"Ward," Trip says, catching his attention. "Nice seeing you again."
"You, too," Grant says, shaking his hand. "Thanks for the help."
"Not sure how much help I was," Trip shrugs. "But you know if you ever need more…"
"First man I'll call," Grant agrees. "Right back at you."
Trip nods and, after a brief, polite exchange with Jemma, excuses himself and leaves the lab. This leaves Grant with Jemma and Garrett, and he crosses the room to stand in front of his mentor.
"Good working with you again, sir," Grant says, shaking his hand. It really was. He doesn't hate being on Coulson's team as much as he expected to (and for more reasons than just Jemma, although she's the biggest one), but he has missed working with Garrett.
"You too, son," Garrett says. "I don't suppose I could convince you to ditch Coulson's team and come back to mine?"
"Sorry, sir," he says. "I think I'll be sticking it out here."
"Can't say I blame you," Garrett nods. He claps Grant on the shoulder, then turns to Jemma. "It was nice meeting you, Jemma. Keep an eye on your soulmate for me, would you? Keep him out of trouble."
"I'll do my best," Jemma promises with a smile. "However, contrary to what today's events may have led you to believe, I'm not actually a miracle worker, so…"
Garrett laughs. "Understood. Your best is all I ask."
"It was nice meeting you, as well," Jemma says. "Take care."
"And you," Garrett says. He shakes Grant's hand again, then leaves.
As soon as he's out of sight, Jemma leans heavily against the lab table behind her, and Grant straightens in concern.
"Jemma?"
"I'm fine," she assures him. It's unconvincing, especially with the way she's got one hand pressed to her ribs. "I've just…rather overdone it, I'm afraid."
No kidding. Between keeping Skye alive, looking into Coulson's medical file, waiting up all night at the trauma center, and everything that happened yesterday…he's honestly impressed that she's even standing right now.
He tucks some of her hair behind her ear, brushing his thumb along her cheek. She looks tired, and pale, and like she's in a severe amount of pain, but she's still beautiful. It's a little ridiculous, actually.
"If I tell you to take some fentanyl and go to bed," he says. "Are you going to fight me?"
Jemma shakes her head. "No, I'm not. As long as you promise to wake me if Skye begins to deteriorate again."
"Is that likely?" he asks, glancing at the monitor. Fitz is still in the med-pod with Skye, but May has disappeared. Either she took the ladder up to the cabin level, or she's hanging around in one of the storage closets. Probably the former, although he wouldn't put the latter past her. For one thing, it's probably best if she doesn't lay eyes on Quinn again.
"No," Jemma says. "Whatever the GH-325 actually is, it was enough to repair Agent Coulson's heart after it was torn in half. Comparatively speaking, Skye's wounds are no more significant than a paper cut. But…promise me anyway."
"I promise," he says. "Now, will you please take a pill? Or seven?"
"Seven's a little extreme, I think," she muses. "I'll stick with one."
He hurries to fetch the fentanyl from the first aid kit before she can think up some other responsibility that she believes outweighs her wellbeing, and watches in satisfaction as she takes one of the tablets. She's already swaying from exhaustion, and he has a feeling that once the fentanyl kicks in, she'll just collapse where she stands.
He should probably get her to bed before that happens.
"You think you can make it up the stairs?" he asks, considering the way she's still leaning against the table.
"I'm going to have to," she says, frowning at him. "I'll not have you carrying me around like some, some…"
She trails off, gesturing vaguely.
"Damsel?" he supplies after a moment.
"Yes, exactly," Jemma nods, pleased. "I am not a damsel, and this is our place of employment. Therefore you will not be carrying me anywhere."
"Okay," he agrees. "In that case, we should probably go upstairs now. Because I'm not just going to leave you on the floor of the lab if you pass out here."
"I should hope not," she says, starting out of the lab. He walks closely behind her, a little concerned that she's going to faint even without the fentanyl's help; she still got a hand pressed to her ribs, and there's pain written all over her face, for all that she's good at keeping it out of her voice.
God save him from self-sacrificing soulmates. One of these days she's going to work herself to death in order to save someone, and then what will he do? He resolves, as he follows her up the stairs, to keep a closer eye on her from now on.
Jemma stumbles a little as they cross the cabin, and he steadies her, concerned.
"I'm fine," she assures him. "Although I really shouldn't have taken that on an empty stomach. That was silly of me."
"You want something to eat?" he asks, pausing at the door to his bunk.
"No, I don't think so," Jemma says, moving past him to enter the bunk. "I'm afraid it will have to wait. I'm not sure how much longer I'll be conscious."
He shakes his head, a little amused at her matter-of-fact statement, and follows her in, sliding the door closed behind him.
He helps her shrug off her cardigan and remove her necklace, then kneels to untie her shoes for her. It's a mark of how much pain she's in that she lets him do the last thing, because she's been insisting on doing it herself, the last few days, even though he knows it still hurts her.
"Thank you," she says around a yawn as she lies down. "Are you going to join me?"
"In a bit," he says. "I need to take care of a few things, first. Do you need anything before I go?"
"I'm fine," she says, reaching out and grabbing his hand. She squeezes it gently, smiling at him. "Thank you, Grant. I'm sorry to worry you so much."
He squeezes her hand in return, then lets go and steps away from the bed.
"Don't be," he says quietly. "Not like I make it any easier on you, is it?"
She hums vaguely, already mostly asleep, and he leaves the bunk, sliding the door closed again behind him.
He feels so much lighter now. Everything that's been weighing on him—his worry for Garrett, his inability to discover the secret of Coulson's survival, his guilt over Skye and Coulson getting caught up in Centipede's plans—is gone now. He feels almost like a new man.
Garrett's got a cure, now. That means two things: one, he won't be dying anytime soon, and two, Grant's mission is complete. From now on, he won't have to worry about gaining Coulson's trust or about trying to find a way to get him to talk.
He can focus on protecting Jemma, and the rest of the team, without worrying about anything else. Garrett and Skye are saved. Jemma's on the mend. Coulson's apparently on the way to a mental break down or something, but that's not really Grant's problem.
It's all smooth sailing from here.
A/N: I do tend to end chapters with Grant and/or Jemma going to sleep, don't I? In my defense, the show puts the team through the wringer in every episode. If I were them, I'd be headed to bed as soon as the cameras turned away, for fear of whatever's coming next.
Especially since I actually know what's coming next, lol.
Thanks for reading!