sometimes (i find it hard to believe)

by shineyma

Grant Ward's soulmate is a beautiful, brilliant scientist whom he has absolutely no hope of turning to HYDRA. The fact that this is not his biggest problem really says a lot. [Part three of the "before you fall" series]

17. Turn, Turn, Turn

A/N: First, thanks so much for all of the comments and kudos.

Second, let me take this opportunity to reiterate (and add to) some earlier warnings: strong language (lots of it), violence (lots of that, too), and minor elements of self harm are present in this chapter.

Third...I think I'll save the rest of my note for the end.

Thanks for reading and, as always, please be gentle if you review!

---

Less than five minutes after the Bus' sudden change in direction, the door opens again. It's Coulson and Fitz, but they're not here to explain what's going on.

They're here to deposit an unconscious and handcuffed May.

"What happened?" Grant asks.

"She's a sleeper," Coulson says, as he and Fitz set May down near the wall. He stands and hesitates. "I mean, the other kind of sleeper."

"Wait," he says. Coulson can't possibly mean what Grant thinks he means. "What are you saying?"

"She's been reporting on us this whole time," Coulson says, and then follows Fitz out of the Cage, closing the door behind him.

Okay. Well. He can't say he saw that coming.

Reporting on them to whom, though? It can't be HYDRA; he'd know. Not to mention, while the analysis performed before he started this assignment put her at a higher chance of turning than Jemma, it was still fairly low. As far as HYDRA's concerned, Melinda May is far too loyal to Phil Coulson—and, through him, SHIELD—to ever be a viable candidate for turning.

Of course, the whole sleeper thing brings that into question, doesn't it? If she's been reporting on Coulson, it's possible she's not as loyal as everyone (including HYDRA) thought. Could she have been faking? She and Coulson have been tight for decades. And while it's definitely possible for a woman of her talents to play the long game…what would be the point?

There's no way to know. All he can do is wait for her to wake up. Not that she's likely to just come out and tell him her loyalties, but she at least might be willing to fill him in on what the hell is happening. And while they discuss that, he'll see if he can discern anything about her true loyalties.

It's not incredibly likely—she's got the same training he does—but there's a reason that when it comes to espionage, people say he's the best since Romanoff. He's got a talent for making connections from the smallest details.

But that's for later. Right now, all he can do is wait for May to regain consciousness.

x

It takes nearly an hour. Grant uses that time to consider how he should play this. He's not entirely sure how he feels about May reporting on them; one the on hand, his instinctive reaction is betrayal. On the other…well, it's not like he has any room to judge, is it?

However, he can't exactly tell May that he understands where she's coming from. So, regardless of his own feelings on the topic (whatever they may be), anger is the way to go.

Which is why, when May finally stirs, Grant is waiting with his arms crossed.

"Coulson said you're an informant," he bites out as she examines the handcuffs she's wearing. "Want to elaborate on that?"

"No," she grunts, pushing herself up. "I don't." She slumps back against the wall. "Damn ICER. My head's killing me."

He presses a little more, but she insists that she can't say any more until she gets the go-ahead from Fury. Which is telling in and of itself.

He probably should have guessed, really. Assuming that her loyalty to Coulson is not a con (which he can't entirely rule out, yet), the only person who could possibly get away with asking her to betray him would be Fury.

And it would be just like Fury to plant someone to spy on someone who is, arguably, one of the closest things he has to a friend, wouldn't it? Paranoid old bastard. He wouldn't couch it in those terms, of course: not spying, not betraying, possibly not even reporting. He'd have to find a way to convince May that making reports to him was the best thing for Coulson, or she would have told him to go fuck himself, chain of command be damned.

He can't be sure that that's what happened, can't rule out that May actually is a traitor, but…it's the most likely scenario. As far as she's concerned, he thinks, she's just watching Coulson's back. As always.

Grant draws out the pretense of being angry and betrayed, not wanting to give away his understanding too early, and it's not really a surprise when she turns it around on him.

"You know," he says. "You always said to keep my emotions in check, but this is some next-level—"

"You should have listened," she interrupts. "You killed a man in cold blood…let your emotions get the best of you."

"It was to protect our team from a monster!"

He immediately regrets his words—a monster, really? A little dramatic, there—but May doesn't seem to find anything wrong with them. Well, not the part he's concerned with at least.

"It was to protect her," she instantly snaps back. Before he can point out that he's hardly the first member of the team to overreact to Skye being in danger, May leans in and lowers her voice. "Which would be okay, if you hadn't shot the wrong guy."

Shit. They know. He was afraid of that, when Coulson was in here earlier asking whether he was acting under orders, but May's tone is definite. It's not a theory, now; they're positive that Nash wasn't the Clairvoyant.

He draws back a little, projecting confusion, but before he can question her (and find out how much they know), the door opens.

It's Coulson.

"Fitz repaired your direct line," he says to May. "If you have the ability to make this right, now's the time. 'Cause you can't make it worse."

Well. That's…concerning.

"On your feet," Coulson orders. May stands.

"Sir," Grant starts.

"You, too," Coulson snaps. "Get to the kitchen, Garrett will fill you in."

Garrett? What the hell is he doing back here?

Well, at least Coulson leaving Garrett to fill him in suggests that he still trusts him. That's good. He follows them out of the Cage and then heads to the kitchen as they make their way to the cockpit.

The Bus is landing as he crosses the lounge, which is not a good sign. After all, May and Coulson haven't reached the cockpit yet, and he can see that Garrett, Fitz, and Skye are all gathered around the kitchen table. Which means that, unless Garrett's not their only unexpected visitor, no one is in the cockpit. Which means that the Bus is being controlled remotely. And that cannot possibly be a good thing.

Neither is the fact that someone definitely just shot out their weapons. Seriously, what the fuck?

"Sir," Grant asks Garrett as he reaches the kitchen. "What is going on?"

"A whole lot," Garrett says.

"Who is shooting at us?" he asks, because that's always the most important question.

"C'mere, let me catch you up," Garrett says, and draws him aside. "Apparently Agent Hand is the Clairvoyant. So chew on that first."

He breathes out. Okay, so. Garrett's not under suspicion. That's good. Hand is under suspicion. That's…weird.

"Hand, sir?" he asks finally. "I mean, I know she's a little…"

"Yeah, that's what I said," Garrett agrees when he trails off. "But she sent two drones after me. If I hadn't come across your plane I'd be dead right now."

"What?"

It's one thing to pin suspicion on Victoria Hand. He hates her and if they can convince SHIELD that she's the Clairvoyant and get her locked up, he'll throw a fucking party. But it would have to be a frame job, because, as far as he knows, Hand's as loyal as they come. Why would she be sending drones after Garrett? Does she suspect him?

"Coulson saved my ass," Garrett says. "Which he was only in a position to do because Hand was tractoring your team to the Hub."

Okay, so that's one question answered. They're at the Hub, and the sudden change in direction earlier must have been the tractor beam locking on. The question is, why? He voices it, and Garrett's face goes grim.

"That's the real kicker," he says. "And I'm gonna need you to stay calm, son."

That's…not an encouraging start. "Sir?"

"Your friend Skye tried to access SHIELD communications to find out what was going on," Garrett says. "All she found was an encoded transmission being broadcast across every SHIELD communications channel. When she decrypted it…" He puts a hand on Grant's shoulder. "It's HYDRA."

It's only a decade's worth of training that prevents Grant from swearing aloud. HYDRA? Really? What the fuck is that about?

HYDRA's been undercover within SHIELD since its defeat at the end of World War II. If they've suddenly been activated—and the activation code is the only thing that would be broadcast that blatantly—that means something's happened. Something big.

He's aware of Fitz and Skye watching, so he furrows his brow and shakes his head. "HYDRA, sir? But HYDRA was defeated—"

"Apparently not so much," Garrett shrugs. "Looks like they've been hiding in SHIELD since its founding. But that's not our biggest problem."

"There's more?" he asks flatly.

As he says it, it occurs to him that this doesn't explain anything. Hand is with SHIELD. He's almost completely positive about that. He doesn't know every member of HYDRA, of course—HYDRA, in its way, is even more obsessed with compartmentalization than SHIELD is—but he'd know if Hand was one of them. Wouldn't he?

"Hand is the Clairvoyant," Garrett says. "If she's acting openly, now that HYDRA is in the light, it means she's probably working for them. And if she was able to tractor us all the way to the Hub without being interrupted, it means…"

It means that HYDRA is in control of the Hub. Or, since he's still pretty sure Hand isn't HYDRA, at the very least, someone who obviously thinks that they're the enemy is in control of the Hub. Grant has to bite the inside of his cheek, hard, to force his rage aside, because it's suddenly front and center—for very good reason.

"Jemma's at the Hub," he says.

"I know, son," Garrett says, and squeezes his shoulder. "So is Trip. You know he'll have her back."

Right. Right, of course. He knows Trip isn't HYDRA; he's a legacy, for crying out loud, he's SHIELD down to the bone. That alone would be enough to have him watching Jemma's back, if the fact that she's Grant's soulmate wasn't enough. Which it will be.

Trip will protect Jemma. Of course he will.

He tries to calm himself, to set the rage aside the way May taught him. But he can't, because trusting his soulmate's safety to someone else is difficult at the best of times. And this is definitely not the best of times.

Grant and Garrett have kept themselves distanced from HYDRA, a little. Garrett's focus has always been on the Centipede/Deathlok project, and Grant hasn't been subtle about the fact that his first loyalty is to Garrett. All of a sudden, that seems like a really fucking stupid idea, because it means that Grant doesn't have much influence in HYDRA. Certainly not enough for any of the HYDRA agents stationed at the Hub to go out of their way to avoid hurting his soulmate.

Jemma's not only in danger from HYDRA, either. Whatever's happening at the Hub right now, there's sure to be chaos. Being loyal to SHIELD might not be enough to save her from overzealous SHIELD agents looking to root out all of the traitors. And there's always friendly fire to worry about, too.

Jemma's in danger from all sides. She has no way of protecting herself. And he's currently cornered on the Bus with one good specialist, one excellent specialist who's not likely to be let out of her cuffs anytime soon, one very rusty field agent, one rookie field agent, and Fitz.

He swears, because he can't hold it back any longer, and Garrett squeezes his shoulder again. The rage is still building in his chest and, combined with the panic crawling up his throat, means that he's very much on edge.

It saves his life.

Call it instinct, or premonition, or what the fuck ever, but when the first shot rings out he's already moving. He dives for cover, taking Skye—as the closest civilian, so to speak (Garrett can handle himself)—with him. They huddle under the table, along with Fitz, as the Bus is riddled with bullets from outside.

Grant looks to Garrett, who's sheltering in the bench seat on the other side of the table.

"Storage area's got better shielding," he says. "And munitions."

Garrett nods once, sharply. "Lead the way."

"Stay down," Grant orders Fitz and Skye. "Follow me."

He belly-crawls to the ladder that leads down to the storage area. It's a risk, no doubt, leaving their cover to get closer to the wall, but so is staying up here. At least in the storage area they'll be able to formulate a plan without worrying about being shot.

The fact that the people outside—whether they're SHIELD or HYDRA—are open firing like this, without even attempting to make contact, doesn't bode well for Jemma. He knows that. It's right there in the front of his mind as he goes down the ladder and waits for the others to follow.

He can't put it aside. He's just not capable of that. Pure, unadulterated fury is racing through him, along with a panic he can't hope to suppress. He can't put it aside.

But he can't dwell on it, either.

If he wants to help Jemma, the first thing he needs to do is get off the Bus. He needs to be at least a little calm in order to make a plan to do that. So, as first Skye, then Fitz, then Garrett descend the ladder, he focuses on using the rage. It can be fuel, he knows, and it's going to have to be. It's the only way to stay on top of it.

The last time he used the rage as fuel was in that monastery in Ireland, against the members of that hate group that were after the berserker staff. He still doesn't remember what happened that night, how he defeated all of them single-handedly.

But that was months ago, less than a day after he was initially exposed to the berserker staff. He has control, now. He's on top of it. He can use it and retain his mind at the same time. He can.

For Jemma.

May and Coulson follow after Garrett, and May's favoring one arm.

"You hit?" Grant asks.

"Not our biggest problem," she says. "Fury's dead."

There's a long moment of silence. Grant, for his part, is skeptical. Fury wouldn't go down easy, and the timing is suspect. It's possible he's just in hiding.

Of course, HYDRA's out of the shadows, so who the hell knows?

"I'm gonna see to May's arm," Coulson says before any of them can recover. "The rest of you, head to the munitions closet. They've got guns. We're gonna need bigger ones."

Seeing that Skye and Fitz are about to protest, Grant nods sharply. "Understood."

They head deeper into the storage area, away from the ladder. On the way, they pass one of the supply closets, and Grant ducks in to grab a spare tac vest. His is…well, who knows; he had to hand it over when he was taken into custody at the race-track. It might still be there, it might be upstairs, it might be in an evidence locker somewhere. No point in worrying about it now.

Garrett and Coulson both turn down tac vests of their own, so they continue on their way. May and Coulson split off for a med-pod, while the rest of them continue on to the munitions closet. Once they reach it, Fitz and Skye get to work digging through the lockers while Grant and Garrett stand back.

Grant's blood is still boiling, and he tries to distract himself by asking Garrett about Fury.

"Man was my SO," Garrett says. "Coulson's, too. Proved himself more than once to be a hard man to kill." He looks up as the gunfire, which had briefly halted, resumes. "That sound outside doesn't bode well, though."

All of which is to say Garrett doesn't have any more of an idea what's going on than Grant does. That's…really not comforting.

Garrett steps past him and takes a look at the munitions locker. "Is there anything on this plane you don't want them to get their hands on?"

Grant exchanges a look with Skye. Yeah, you could definitely say that.

"Pretty much everything," Skye says, zipping up the duffle bag she's been filling.

Garrett looks to Grant. "Your team, son."

Whatever's happening with HYDRA right now, Grant is still undercover. Which means he needs to think like a loyal SHIELD agent, not a plant. So…what does the SHIELD agent think? Protect their advantage. They need to keep the information—weapons specs, classified intel, and more—that they've gathered over the past six months out of enemy hands.

They need to protect the advantage they've got and then gain more ground. Currently, they're cornered on the Bus. The enemy will be attempting to seize it—it's a valuable asset. First, they need to get into a position to stop the enemy from gaining control of the Bus, or at least delay their progress. Then, they need to find a way off of the Bus. Then, they need to cross off everyone who stands between the team and Jemma. After that, they'll need an exit route.

First things first.

"Right," he says. "Fitz, cut the hydraulics on the cargo ramp. Once they give up on firing, a surgical strike team is next. We'll need to slow them down."

Fitz nods sharply.

"After you finish that, come back here and work with Agent Garrett to devise a plan to buy us some time. Cutting the hydraulics won't slow the strike team for long, and we're gonna need every second we can get."

"On it," Fitz agrees, and takes off down the hall.

"Skye, go to the lab," Grant continues. "Wipe the system. We can't let HYDRA get its hands on our intel."

"Agreed," Skye says. "But we've got a lot of data. It won't be quick."

"We'll buy you time," Garrett promises. "Already got some ideas on that."

Skye nods and follows Fitz, leaving Grant alone with Garrett.

"I need to fill in May and Coulson," Grant says, moving to the munitions locker. He arms himself quickly, making a mental note to get his knife back from May, while Garrett just stands back and watches.

"You all right, son?" Garrett asks after a long minute.

Grant stops, one hand on the door to the munitions locker. The concern in Garrett's voice shakes him a little, and his control cracks. He slams his fist against the locker, hard, and uses the accompanying flash of pain to steady himself.

"I'll take that as a no," Garrett says blandly.

"Whatever happens next," Grant says quietly. "SHIELD's finished, isn't it?"

He doesn't see how it could be anything but. HYDRA goes all the way to the top—all the way to Pierce—and even if the loyal SHIELD agents manage to mount a resistance, they're entirely unprepared for this. HYDRA knew there was always a possibility this day would come—hence the pre-arranged activation code, even though they never intended to actually use it—and is in a much better position to act than SHIELD is. Even if SHIELD manages to win in the end, the only possible victory is a Pyrrhic one. SHIELD is done.

Garrett nods, ever so slightly. "Yeah. It is."

"SHIELD is falling as we speak," Grant says, and turns to fully face Garrett. "If Jemma comes out of this with so much as a scratch? HYDRA's next."

"Understood," Garrett says seriously, and claps Grant on the shoulder. "And you know I'll be right there with you, son."

"Thank you, sir," he says, just as Fitz turns the corner.

"Hydraulics are cut," he reports. "And I've got some ideas on slowing them down."

He's looking a little frantic around the eyes, so Grant hesitates before heading for the med-pod.

"Jemma's going to be fine," he tells Fitz. "She's smart, she's resourceful, and she's got Trip to watch her back."

"And you trust him?" Fitz demands. "How do you know he's not HYDRA?"

"I trust him," he nods. "Whether he's HYDRA or not—and I really doubt he's HYDRA—I trust him to have my back on this."

"Even if he's HYDRA?" Fitz snaps. "Why would he protect Jemma if he's a bloody traitor?"

"Let's just say he owes me one," Grant says, and, after clapping Fitz on the shoulder, leaves to fill in May and Coulson.

x

By the time Grant, May, and Coulson reach the lab, the firing has stopped entirely. A surgical strike team is next, and Grant hopes Garrett and Fitz can come up with something to slow them down, or they're all screwed.

(A part of him is hoping the plan will be to lie in wait and cross off the entire strike team; he's got plenty of rage to work off, and just because he's got a handle on it for the moment doesn't mean he wouldn't gladly break a hundred necks right now.)

It takes a while to convince Coulson of the merits of their plan to clean the Bus' system. He's distracted, still steaming over what he sees as May's betrayal, and it takes all of Grant's tenuous control not to tell him to get the fuck over it. Regardless of what May's done, they're all on the same side here—at least as far as Coulson knows—and Coulson's hurt feelings are the least of their problems.

Jemma's somewhere in the Hub. Her life is in danger. Right now, she's Grant's only priority, and the evidence that Coulson doesn't feel the same is enough to have his hand twitching for his sidearm. He stays focused, though, and finally hits upon the one thing that will convince Coulson of the necessity of wiping out their files.

"The drug from TAHITI, sir," he says with quiet emphasis. Then he continues in a normal tone. "All here. If HYDRA is really about to seize this plane…"

"We should wipe the system," Coulson completes.

Grant barely keeps from rolling his eyes. Finally, they're on the same page.

"I'm backing it up on this hard drive to keep our edge," Skye tells him, nodding to the external hard drive she has plugged into her laptop. It's maybe a little ironic that it bears the SHIELD logo, considering the circumstances, but it was probably all she could find.

"Then do it," Coulson orders. "Scrub the plane clean."

"It'll take some time," Skye warns.

Garrett and Fitz are passing through the lab, headed for the cargo bay, and Garrett tells her they're working on it. If the way the duffle bags they're carrying are bulging is any indication, they've cleared out the munitions closet entirely.

Grant's pretty sure they've got this.

Of course, this leaves him with absolutely nothing to do except worry about Jemma.

Hoping to distract himself, he looks to May. "What did you do with my knife?"

With a little difficulty—since she's still cuffed—she draws it out of her pocket and hands it to him. It settles him, a little, to have it. Which is ridiculous—it's a switchblade, not a security blanket, and he's a grown man, for crying out loud—but he's grateful for it nonetheless.

"Thanks," he says, and slips it into his pocket.

"So," Skye says without pausing in her typing. "Do we have a plan?"

"For what?" Coulson asks.

"Getting off the plane?" she suggests. "Finding Simmons? Getting out of the Hub with Simmons? Or, my personal favorite, all of the above?"

Finally, something he can do.

"The Bus is surrounded," he says. "We'll need to cause some kind of distraction before we can leave."

"Got that covered," Garrett volunteers, as he and Fitz reenter the lab.

"We've planted explosives in the cargo bay," Fitz explains. "Motion-activated. As soon as they get up the ramp…" He makes a little 'boom' motion with his hands. "Down they go."

Coulson sighs a little. "I hope this HYDRA thing doesn't mess up our insurance."

"Okay, but if there are explosives in the cargo bay, how do we get off the Bus?" Skye asks. "It's not like we have escape pods." She pauses. "Do we? Because that would be really cool."

"No," May says flatly. "We don't." She shakes her head. "There are plenty of emergency exits—"

"I know," Skye interjects. "I read the safety pamphlet."

"But none of them are particularly subtle," May finishes, ignoring her. "An explosion in the cargo bay won't be enough to keep them from noticing us."

"The floor," Fitz says, snapping his fingers. "If we go out through the bottom of the Bus, we can sneak below the wing to the door on the west wall. They won't be watching the ground."

"It could work," Garrett agrees, tapping his fingers on the table. "But last I checked, there are no emergency exits through the bottom of the plane. Are there?"

"No," Fitz says. "There aren't. So we make one."

Oh. Grant sees exactly where he's going with this.

"Mousehole?" he asks.

"Mousehole," Fitz agrees.

"What, we have mice now?" Skye asks, looking between them.

"No, it's-it's an invention I," Fitz pauses. "Don't worry about it. We've got the escape covered. What's the plan for finding Jemma?"

"If you're sure?" Coulson asks.

"It'll work," Grant promises, remembering the invention in question. It's a concentrated laser, capable of cutting through just about anything. Jemma gave him one of those for his birthday, too, and he had some fun testing it out. It'll cut through the plane, no problem.

"Okay, good," Coulson says. "Then here's how we play it inside. Two teams: one goes to the nerve center to disable HYDRA's systems—especially their control of the Bus, which gives us our escape route. The other team finds Simmons and gets her, and hopefully Agent Triplett, back to the Bus."

"Okay," Garrett says. "Any preference on teams?"

"Yeah," Coulson says. "We'll need Skye to be on the team that goes to the nerve center. HYDRA's gonna have some serious protection on their systems, and Skye's the only one with the skills to break it."

Grant nods, mostly to himself. It makes sense. Who to send with her, though? A two-man team is probably best—they'll need to pass as unnoticed as they can, and the fewer people on the team, the easier that will be. May, maybe? But maybe not—Coulson's trust in her is entirely broken, as evidenced by the fact that she's still wearing the cuffs, and he won't want to send his favorite off with a specialist he doesn't trust. Garrett, then, or Coulson himself.

"And," Coulson adds. "Ward will be going with her."

What.

"I'm sorry, sir," Grant says, deliberately calm. "I must have misheard you."

"I said, you'll be going with her," Coulson repeats. "Skye's still a rookie. She'll need someone to watch her back."

Grant is so stunned by the sheer gall that he's not even angry—well, no more than he's been since he realized the danger Jemma was in. Exactly what is Coulson on?

"If you honestly expect me to go anywhere but straight to Jemma—"

"Most of the agents in the Hub are following orders," Coulson interrupts. "They aren't HYDRA. Which means we're taking the ICERs for this one. We want to incapacitate, not kill. I can't trust you to do that."

"I can follow orders," Grant snaps, and there's the anger. "…Sir."

"Ward," Coulson says sharply. "Yesterday, you disobeyed orders and shot an unarmed man in cold blood in response to a verbal threat against Skye." He leans across the table. "Do you really expect me to trust you to follow orders when Simmons' life is actually in danger?"

God damn it. Of course that would come back to bite him. Of all the times this could have happened, it had to be the day after Garrett tried to wrap things up with Centipede. Fucking typical.

It's not like he can say he was following orders when he shot Nash. But there is no fucking way he's going to play bodyguard to Skye while Jemma's in danger. It's not happening. And damn straight he won't be incapacitating—he doesn't know what exactly has given Coulson the impression that not all of the agents outside are HYDRA, but as far as Grant's concerned, it doesn't matter.

HYDRA or SHIELD, SHIELD or HYDRA; anyone who stands between Grant and Jemma is the enemy, full stop, and he will absolutely be crossing them off—with extreme prejudice.

"I know what happened yesterday, sir," he says, careful to keep his voice even. No matter how much he'd like to tell Coulson to go fuck himself, it would only be counterproductive at this point. "But I can't just—"

"We'll get Simmons," Coulson interrupts. "Trust me to have her back, Ward. And if you don't trust me, trust Garrett."

"We'll take care of her, son," Garrett agrees, resting a hand on Grant's shoulder. "She won't get so much as a scratch on our watch, you can count on that."

"Sir—"

"Do you trust us?" Coulson interrupts again. "Yes or no?"

Coulson's been secretive and paranoid lately. Ever since he nearly died at the Guest House, he's been acting oddly. Actually, he was acting oddly before the Guest House, too, just in a different way. He's emotionally compromised—over what he sees as May's betrayal, over HYDRA's survival, and over whatever he saw at the Guest House. Frankly, Grant wouldn't trust him with the grocery shopping, let alone something as important as Jemma's life. (And he hasn't forgotten what happened the last time he was asked to trust Jemma's safety to Coulson, either.)

But Garrett…

Garrett is the closest thing he's got to a father. He's had Grant's back a thousand times over the years, saved his life just as often as Grant has saved his. Garrett pulled him out of hell and gave him a life, a purpose. Until very recently, Garrett was one of only two people Grant ever trusted to have at his back.

He trusts Garrett. He doesn't trust Coulson, but he trusts Garrett.

And the longer they spend arguing about this, the longer Jemma's out in the Hub, alone and in danger. They hope that Trip is with her, but there's no way to know. She might be injured. She might have been captured.

She can't be dead. He won't even think that. But every second they waste here on the Bus brings her closer to it.

He takes a deep breath. "Okay. Okay. I'm with Skye."

"Good man," Garrett says, and squeezes his shoulder. He glances out at the cargo bay. "It's been quiet out there for a while. Whatever this escape idea is, you better get it going. I have a feeling our distraction is gonna get sprung soon."

"Right," Grant agrees. "Fitz, you wanna handle that?"

"Yeah," Fitz says, obviously thankful for something to do. "I'll take care of it. Outside of storage 2B, do you think?"

He takes a moment to visualize the Bus' positioning in regards to the door they need to exit through, then nods. "Good idea."

"Great," Fitz says, pushing away from the table. "I'll get it done."

"In the meantime," Coulson says as Fitz leaves. "The rest of us will suit up."

"Suit up?" Skye asks, detaching the hard drive from the laptop. "Done, by the way."

"We're leading with ICERs," Coulson reiterates, with a pointed glare at Grant. "But we still want conventional weapons, just in case. Let's go."

"Just gotta nuke the system first," Skye says. She taps at the keyboard for a few seconds, then takes a deep breath. "Okay, it's started. It'll take a few minutes to work, though. Nothing I can do about that."

"Let's hope we've got a few minutes, then," Coulson mutters, checking his watch. "Come on. John, did you and Fitz leave anything in the munitions closet?"

"Oh," Garrett says airily. "A toy or two."

"Let's go, then."

x

Grant's already mostly set. He grabs an ICER, then joins Fitz in the hallway outside of storage 2B to wait. Fitz has pulled the metal grating off the ground and is cutting through the belly of the plane.

"Good thinking," Grant says. "If we put that grating back on when we leave, they might not notice the hole."

"Keep them searching the Bus for us instead of the Hub," Fitz nods. "Every minute counts, right?"

"Right," he agrees.

There's not enough space for the two of them to work, even if he did have his Mousehole handy—which he doesn't; it was in his tac vest, and he still doesn't know where that is—so all he can do is stand back and watch.

He doesn't do well with inactivity at the best of times, and this is not the best of times. He can't stop himself from imagining everything that might be happening to Jemma while he stands here uselessly. She's loyal to SHIELD, so if she ends up with Hand, she'll be okay—if Hand is smart enough to realize that Jemma is loyal, that is. There's no guarantee of that.

Still, better Hand than HYDRA. Grant's got no illusions about the people he (technically) works for. HYDRA has it on file that Jemma's got less than half a percent chance of willingly turning. That won't matter, though—Jemma's brilliant enough that HYDRA will make the effort to turn her anyway. When she turns them down (as she unquestionably will; Jemma's morals are too strong for her to compromise them by working for HYDRA, even to save her own life), they'll move on to forcing her cooperation.

If HYDRA agents get their hands on Jemma, they'll tear her apart. At which point he'll be forced to tear them apart. If she has so much as a hair out of place when Garrett finds her, Grant's going to annihilate HYDRA from the top down, ostensive loyalties be damned.

It's not like they even need HYDRA anymore, anyway. They've got the GH-325, and in the month since she was injected with it, Skye has shown no signs of negative side effects. Garrett's life will be saved as soon as he takes the GH-325. HYDRA has served its purpose.

If Jemma's alright, he'll call it even and leave HYDRA be. If she's injured, though…

If she's been tortured, or threatened, or harmed in any way at all…

"She'll be okay," Fitz says.

Drawn out of his thoughts, he looks down to see that Fitz has finished cutting through the plane. There's a good-sized hole beneath the walkway, big enough for them to fit through one-by-one. He also realizes that at some point, he took the switchblade out of his pocket and has been fiddling with it—which is probably how Fitz knew what he was thinking.

Not that it would be terribly hard to guess at the moment, he admits to himself as he tucks the switchblade away again.

"Yeah," he agrees, since Fitz looks just as in need of reassurance as Grant feels. "Of course she will."

"She's smart," Fitz continues, looking down at his hands. "She's a genius. Probably holed up somewhere having a cuppa while she waits for us."

"Right."

"She'll be angry it's taking so long. Have you ever heard her lecture about punctuality?"

"No," he says, watching as Fitz toys with the grating. "Can't say I have."

"It's the worst," Fitz mutters. "Like she's never been late for anything. You miss one pointless orientation and she never lets you…"

He falters, and Grant watches as his hands tighten around the grating until his knuckles are white.

"She'll be okay," Fitz repeats, mostly to himself.

Grant nods firmly. "She will."

She has to be. There's no other option.

Fitz looks like he's about to say something more, but he doesn't get the chance, as the rest of the team approaches from the end of the hall.

"We heard them setting charges on the ramp," Skye reports, coming to a stop next to Fitz. She's wearing a tac vest, but combined with the way her hair's pulled back and the backpack she's sporting, she looks more like a kid playing dress-up than a field agent.

That may just be his cynicism talking, though. He's heard that SOs never stop seeing their trainees as rookies. And Skye really is a rookie—this is only her second day as an agent.

Here's hoping it's not her last.

"Any second now," Coulson says. He's ditched his suit jacket in favor of a bulletproof vest, which, although certainly a reasonable precaution, is kind of a weird look on him.

"Here," Garrett adds, handing Fitz a backpack and a vest. "Got some goodies for ya."

Fitz blinks, obviously taken aback. "Erm, thanks."

He stands to put on the vest (bulletproof, not tac) and sling the backpack over his shoulder. He's just readjusting the straps when there's a distant thump: the cargo ramp hitting the ground.

"Show time," Coulson says and, as an explosion echoes through the Bus, motions Garrett to lead the way out of the plane.

x

They get out of the hangar in one piece. It's not difficult; apparently the agents outside the Bus weren't expecting any resistance, because the explosion in the cargo bay leaves complete chaos in its wake. It's easy enough for the team to slip under the wing, through the shadows, and to the west wall. They pass through the door and into the main base without raising a single flag.

Of course, that was the easy part.

They're all on guard as they make their way through the hallways. Garrett—whether in hopes of calming the visibly nervous Fitz or because he's honestly curious—asks about the Mousehole, and Fitz is happy to fill him in as they approach the hallway intersection where they'll have to go their separate ways.

Grant, honestly, could use a distraction of his own, and he focuses in on Skye.

"You got the hard drive?" he asks.

"Yep," she says, patting her pocket.

"You want me to carry it?" he offers. "Just in case?"

She hesitates for a long moment, and Grant, taking it as a no, returns his attention to scanning their surroundings for any sign of enemy movement. He's surprised when, a moment later, she nudges his arm with the hard drive.

"You're right," she says as he takes it. "The hard drive's safer in your hands." They've reached the intersection, and the two of them step back against the wall. "You haven't taught me how to hold up under torture yet."

"We'll get to that," he promises, tucking the hard drive away and forcefully wrenching his mind away from the possibility that Jemma could have done with that lesson, too. "It's real fun."

"All right," Coulson says. "Here's where we split. Skye and Ward?"

Grant reaffirms their roles, returning Coulson's pointed glare with one of his own. Coulson has proven, in the past, to be untrustworthy—Grant hasn't forgotten him leaving Jemma alone on that train in Italy, an incident which he now knows ended with Jemma throwing herself on a grenade. If anything happens to Jemma because Coulson abandons her (again), HYDRA won't be the only thing Grant terminates.

"We'll take care of your girl, son," Garrett promises, reading him as easily as always. "Don't worry."

Grant gives him a nod. He knows he can trust Garrett.

"Remember," Coulson says as Grant and Skye start down the hall. "These agents are under orders. Use ICERs only. We'll find Simmons, get her out."

Grant still doesn't know why they're using ICERs—seriously, what kind of delusion is Coulson living in if he thinks that only one person in this entire base is actually HYDRA?—but he's willing to go along with it. For now.

If Jemma's been injured, all bets are off. But for the moment, he'll play by Coulson's rules.

"So," Skye says as they make their way down the hall. "Do you know where we're going? Because I have no idea where we are now, let alone where the nerve center is."

"Yeah," he nods. He pauses at an intersection, checking for movement, and considers which route to take.

The nerve center is down in the tunnels—the hallways beneath the Hub. It is, as the name implies, the very center of operations, and if they can take control of it they can take control of the Hub. The enemy will know that just as well as he does, of course, so it's sure to be well-guarded.

There are several entrances to the tunnels scattered throughout the base. Their options are to use the nearest entrance and proceed to the nerve center through the tunnels, or to continue on this level until they reach the entrance to the tunnels that is nearest to the nerve center.

Either way is a risk, and either way they'll be encountering enemy agents before long.

But he thinks they'll be better off continuing up here and taking the entrance closest to the nerve center. It will take longer, but they'll be able to bypass most of the agents, since, if Hand's got any sense at all, she'll have guards posted in every hallway in the tunnels. She'll have limited manpower, so there are likely to be fewer guards up here—there's nothing of interest on this level.

Of course, there will be plenty of guards just outside the nerve center, and he'll have to deal with them, but at least they can avoid most of the ones stationed throughout the tunnels.

He itches to take the most direct route—the quicker they accomplish their mission, the quicker he can get to searching for Jemma—but he won't do anyone, Jemma included, any good if he gets himself and Skye killed with his impatience.

"Ward?" Skye asks.

"This way," he says, and turns left. Skye follows.

They traverse the halls in silence for a while. Then Skye clears her throat.

"Hey, Ward?" she says. "Thanks."

He glances at her. "For what?"

"What you said," she hesitates. "About us being family. I didn't—I mean…" She huffs and looks away, checking a connecting hallway as they pass it. "You know it's likewise, right?"

"Yeah," he says, a little amused by her clear discomfort. At the very least, it's nice not to be alone in feeling awkward talking about this. "I know."

"And it's not just you," she continues. "It's Simmons, too. So I—I know it's not easy for you to be here instead of looking for her. But there's no way I could do this alone—and not just because I have no idea where we're going. So, thanks. There's no one I'd rather have at my back."

He pauses, amusement gone and kind of at a loss. He has no idea where that came from.

"You're welcome," he says finally. "You're right; this isn't easy when I'm so worried about Jemma. But I wouldn't have let you do this alone."

"If Simmons…" She takes a deep breath. "If she was…I mean, you'd know, wouldn't you? The bond would be…you'd know."

They're nearing the entrance they need to take to the tunnels, and he distracts himself by checking the signs on doors as they pass them. The truth is, he should know. If Jemma dies, the soulbond will break, and there's no way he could miss that.

The soulbond should be a source of comfort right now, because it's still there and still strong, which means Jemma's alive. Or at least, that's what it should mean.

But he's having a little trouble trusting the soulbond these days. After what happened…

Lorelei manipulated the soulbond. She twisted and bent it—corrupted it—in order to gain control of him. She used the soulbond to mess with his mind, to convince him to take actions that put the team at risk. It's hard to trust the soulbond now—hard to think of anything but the way it was used against him only a couple of weeks ago.

It's still there; warm and strong and stable as always. But it's not as comforting as it used to be.

"Yeah," he says finally, as they reach the entrance he's been looking for. "I'd know."

He lets Skye go down the ladder first, at her insistence. It should be safe enough; if he recalls correctly, this particular ladder ends in a supply closet.

It does. He drops down after her and instantly crosses to the door. He can hear footsteps and voices—a patrol, of course. The smart thing to do would be to stay here for a while, listen and learn the patrol rotation, figure out the gaps, and take advantage of them to try and reach the nerve center with as little enemy contact as possible.

However, that would take time that they just don't have. There's no way of knowing the rest of the team's status. They're not on comms for this mission—can't be, as the comms are relayed through the Bus, which is currently in enemy hands—and they're too far apart for the walkie-talkies they used the last time the comms weren't available.

For all he knows, the rest of the team might have found and rescued Jemma and Trip by now. They might be waiting on an exit strategy. He and Skye need to get to the nerve center, disable the controls in general and the lock on the Bus specifically, and get back to the Bus so they can leave.

Grant cracks the door open and checks how many guards are outside. The answer: a lot. He only has time for a brief glance, but that's all he needs. There are twelve men out there; all Level Five, all foot soldiers, all with the basic armor package. He can handle them, but it won't be easy. Especially since he'll have to do it alone; he can't let Skye fight them—can't risk her being taken out before she gets to the processing center.

If the job was easy, it wouldn't be any fun, but still. He swears as he lets the door fall shut again.

"The processing center is at the end of that hall," Skye says.

He nods without looking at her. "Give me your ICER."

She argues a little, as expected. He'd like to talk her through it, get her to view it logically—the way a SHIELD agent should—but, once again, there's no time for that. So he goes with the emotional play.

"I killed an innocent man, Skye," he reminds her, allowing his voice to shake a little.

"You didn't know," she whispers. "You thought you were doing the right thing. You…thought he was going to—"

"To hurt you," he interrupts. "I did that to protect you, and it was the wrong thing to do." He holds out his hand for her ICER. "Let me do the right thing now."

She hesitates for a long moment, then hands over her ICER. He stands, pulling out his own ICER, and checks that they're both armed and ready. They are. It's time to move.

"Ward," Skye says softly, pushing herself to her feet.

He looks at her.

"Don't die, okay?" she orders. "Or Simmons will kill me. And, honestly, she scares me a lot more than they do."

He grins. "Lock the door behind me."

He doesn't have to say anything else for her to realize what he intends. She moves to the corner, where she'll be hidden behind the door when it opens, and reaches for the handle. He takes a deep breath, centers himself, and lets it out. Then he gives her the nod, and she opens the door.

His rage is safely in check; it has to be, if he wants to follow Coulson's orders and incapacitate instead of kill. That's all right. He's a specialist. He can handle a few foot soldiers. Cannon fodder, his classmates at the Academy used to call them during strategy lessons. He can take them.

He goes through the door already shooting, and takes down six of the men before they can even react. That's half of the enemy agents down, but now the others have recovered from their shock, and the easy part is over.

One of the guards is better—or possibly just faster—than the others, and manages to get behind Grant. He takes a right hook to the face that dazes him—only for a second, but it's long enough for the guard to knock the ICER out of Grant's left hand.

Seeing two other guards approaching, Grant drops the other ICER in favor of grabbing the guard and bringing him around to use as a shield. It's just in time, as the guard is riddled with bullets—actual bullets, not dendrotoxin rounds—by his comrades.

He throws the guard at the other two, knocking them down, and grabs on to a pipe on the ceiling, swinging from it in order to kick another guard in the face as he turns the corner. He goes down hard, but it leaves Grant out of position to defend himself from one of the guards he knocked down earlier, who's back on his feet and manages to get a few lucky hits in.

The guard slams Grant against the wall at exactly the right place for his head to go through the glass covering the emergency fire hose, which stings like a bitch but gives him an excellent weapon. Ignoring the blood running into his eyes, Grant grabs a piece of the glass and strikes out at the guard with it. He gets him in the face, and the man goes down just in time for Grant to kick another approaching guard in the stomach, knocking him back.

They're getting smart, starting to come at him two at a time instead of hanging back to avoid risking hitting each other by accident, the way they have been. Grant knocks one out, takes a hard hit to the ribs from another, and knocks that one out as well. As the guard falls, Grant grabs the knife strapped to the man's thigh and throws it, catching another guard right in the weak spot in his armor, and down that one goes, too.

Unfortunately, this is the point where he loses the advantage. Crossing people off is easy; it's a hell of a lot harder to deliberately not kill anyone. He could have taken them all out in seconds, but using enough force to incapacitate them without killing them takes longer, and with them coming at him two or three at a time, he doesn't have the time to knock them out, just down. He knocks out one more, and then the ones he hasn't managed to keep down are swarming him.

They bring him down, and a few more appear. He's completely surrounded, and, apparently, he's managed to piss them off, because their orders to use lethal force have been forgotten in favor of kicking him like bullies in the schoolyard.

He feels one rib crack, and that's just about the last straw.

Screw Coulson's orders. He's going to cross these men off, and with great pleasure. He could do with letting out some of the rage and panic and fear he's feeling over Jemma, anyway. And he knows just how to do it.

The knife he threw earlier is within his reach. He grabs it and lets go of his control.

There are only five men, and they've already grown complacent in the few seconds he's been down. With the boiling fury in his chest to fuel him, and no longer holding back, it takes less than ten seconds to cross them all off.

He leaves the knife—he's got a much better one of his own—and heads back to the supply closet where Skye is waiting. As he goes, he tucks the rage away again. It's not easy, but he manages.

He trusts Garrett, he reminds himself. He trusts Trip. Hell, he even trusts May. They'll take care of Jemma. They'll see to it that she gets out of here safely. It's his job to get her an exit route, and he needs to be clear headed for that.

By the time he reaches the supply closet (pausing to grab one of the ICERs off the ground), he's got it all back under control. The not insignificant pain he's in—one cracked rib, bruised knuckles, and that glass did some serious damage to his face, if the way it's stinging is any indication—helps with that.

He opens the door—Skye forgot to lock it, he notes—to find Skye in the corner. She lets out a relieved breath when she sees him and, as he's still a little out of breath himself, they just stand there for a moment, looking at each other.

Finally, she huffs a little laugh. "What took so long?"

"Stopped for coffee," he jokes, but this really isn't the time for messing around, so he pins her with a serious look. "You ready to hack the system?"

She grins and grabs her backpack off the ground, pulling it open to show him what's inside. What's inside, unexpectedly, is a bomb. A pretty well-made one, at that, and he's a bit proud, despite himself. She really did pay attention during their lessons.

"Who said anything about hacking?" she asks.

It's definitely not what he was expecting from her, but he's glad. Destroying the nerve center will be a hell of a lot faster than hacking it, and the sooner they take care of this, the sooner he gets to Jemma.

"Good thinking," he says. "Let's go."

Skye hesitates in the doorway, looking at the bodies strewn around the hall, but after a glance at Grant she nods once.

"Guess they didn't give you much choice," she says, stepping out into the hall.

"No," he agrees, wiping the blood off of his forehead and away from his eyes. "They didn't."

The processing center is empty. Hand must be using one of the situation rooms as a base instead. Probably a wise move, since the processing center is a natural target, and she wouldn't want to be distracted by constant attempts by the enemy to seize it.

Either way, it makes it easy for them to plant the explosives around the room.

"There are multiple back-up systems in place," Grant warns Skye as they do so. "Taking out the nerve center will shake Hand's control, but not for long. So once we do this—"

"Find the team and get out before Hand can get things running again," Skye completes. "Got it." She arms the last bomb and stands. "What happens if we can't find the team in time?"

He shrugs, motioning for her to lead the way out of the room. "We'll have to do this again in one, if not more, of the sit rooms. Won't be easy or quick, so let's not make it necessary."

"Right," she agrees. "Good thinking."

Seeing as they are in a hurry, they only set the timers for two minutes. So they make their way back down the hall quickly and duck around the corner for cover. Skye sticks her fingers in her ears, while Grant remains on guard, ICER at the ready. They can't afford to be complacent.

The bombs go off with a dull boom that shakes the whole building. The fact that the lights go out immediately after proves that the explosives have done their job—power operations have been affected, therefore the processing center is down—but…

"Was that all of them?" Skye asks, a little surprised.

Grant leans around the corner and then back, shaking his head. "It wasn't as big as I thought it—"

He's interrupted by a much larger explosion, and he instinctively shoves Skye back against the wall and covers her. The emergency lights flicker off for a moment, then return.

"Okay," Skye says after a moment. "That's better."

He pulls away from her, straightening and checking the hall. "That's gonna draw some attention. Let's move."

"Lead the way," she says.

The Hub is huge, and there's no way of knowing where Jemma might be. Which means there's no way to be sure of where the team might have gone to look for her. His best guess, however, is one of the auxiliary power stations—it wouldn't be heavily guarded, just a few enemy agents that Garrett, Coulson, and May could easily handle, and all of the auxiliary power stations are plugged into the security grid, so they'd be able to search for Jemma and Trip on the monitors instead of going through the whole compound on foot.

And the nearest auxiliary power station is up one level, very near to where they last saw the rest of the team. They'll start there.

He leads Skye back to the supply closet they were in earlier, then up the ladder to the level above.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

"Auxiliary power station," he says, and explains his reasoning.

"Wow," she says, as he checks around a corner and motions her forward. "Do you know every SHIELD base this well, or just the Hub?"

"Every base I've been stationed at," he says. "Never know when you're gonna have to infiltrate—shit."

Halfway through his sentence, the lights come back up, which means the power is back online. Which means that someone has recovered control of the base—and since they can't be sure which someone it is, their exit strategy is screwed.

"Sooooo," Skye draws out. "Sit room?"

Grant takes a deep breath and lets the accompanying pain in his ribs ground him. The rage and panic in his chest are building by the minute, and the only thing he wants to do is find Jemma.

He trusts Garrett. He trusts Trip. He trusts May.

Jemma will be fine. The best thing he can do for her is secure their exit.

"Yeah," he agrees, resigned. "Sit room."

He turns them away from the path to the auxiliary power station and aims for the nearest sit room. With every step he has to remind himself that he trusts (most) of the others, that Jemma will be fine, that she's probably even now fussing over May's injured arm and shooing Fitz, who's undoubtedly hovering, away.

But it's difficult, because he can't keep his mind from imagining what HYDRA agents would do if they got their hands on her—the torture she'd suffer if she refused to work for HYDRA, which she undoubtedly would. Jemma has strong morals and absolutely no sense of self-preservation. It's a dangerous combination.

He thought she'd be safe here. He had no trouble leaving her here yesterday because he thought she would be safe. How could he have predicted that HYDRA would pick today, of all days, to come out of the shadows? After nearly seventy years hiding within SHIELD, why today?

With every step, he tries to convince himself that Jemma is probably fine, and with every step, he fails. The rage builds, brick by brick, nearly choking him with its intensity and only strengthened as it bounces off his panic. There's a storm of emotion raging in his chest, and with every step he comes closer to losing control of it.

Until they turn a corner and it disappears like it was never there, replaced with sweet relief. For a moment, he's almost lightheaded, because they've found the team and Jemma is right there with them.

She looks to be in one piece. She doesn't have any immediately obvious injuries, she's standing under her own power, and while Fitz is standing close to her, he's not hovering, so Grant feels safe assuming she hasn't been seriously harmed.

"Jemma," he says, and she turns to face him. "Are you—"

She throws herself at him, grabbing on and holding him tightly, and he bites back a wince. Jemma might be unharmed, but he's really not. Still, he returns the hug gratefully, too relieved to worry about his ribs. He looks over her head at Fitz, but the engineer turns away. His brow furrows as he looks down at Jemma. This is something else, something beyond the fear of the last few hours.

"What is it?" he asks her.

She sniffles a little and pulls away slightly. "I'm so sorry, Grant."

"For what?" he asks, shaking his head. "Jemma, what's going on?"

They're standing at an intersection, and SHIELD agents dressed in riot gear are leading a line of what must be captured HYDRA agents down the connecting hallway, but he's been ignoring them, focused on Jemma. The sound of shouting draws his attention now.

"You're a goddamn traitor! Traitor!" Trip is hollering.

Grant freezes. He really hopes that doesn't mean…but it does. At the end of the line of captives, Garrett walks, handcuffed, sandwiched between two SHIELD agents and very clearly being kept prisoner. Fuck. Fuck fucking fuck.

His training serves him well, because he automatically snaps to damage control mode. If SHIELD knows that Garrett is the Clairvoyant, or even just HYDRA, they'll be looking at Grant—not his only student, but definitely the one he's closest to, and they've never hidden that—as a suspect as well.

He lets his grip on Jemma go slack, lets his face fall into confused lines, and makes eye contact with Trip. He looks at Coulson, then back after Garrett, furrowing his brow and projecting disbelief. He needs to look stunned, like he can't comprehend what's happening.

"What?" he asks, voice bewildered.

"Come here, Grant," Coulson says, and, drawing him away from Jemma, leads him a little further down the hall.

"Sir, what—"

"Garrett's the Clairvoyant," Coulson says. His voice is quiet and sympathetic, and there's no trace of suspicion on his face as he looks up at Grant.

"No," he denies, shaking his head. "No way."

"I'm sorry, Grant," Coulson says, and he does sound it. "But it's true. He's the Clairvoyant and he's been working for HYDRA all this time."

"You're wrong," Grant insists. He lets a little anger slip into his tone. "Garrett's not—he couldn't—you're wrong. Hand is—"

"Hand is SHIELD," Coulson interrupts. "Garrett confessed. Well, I say confessed. He let something slip while he was trying to convince us to kill Hand, and when he realized what he'd said, he couldn't resist gloating."

Let something slip? Fucking idiot. After all these years, he gets careless now?

"No," he says. "No, there's some mistake. Garrett couldn't…" Coulson reaches for him, and he jerks away. He lets desperation creep into his voice. "It's just a misunderstanding. It has to be. There's no way Garrett is the Clairvoyant. No way."

Then Jemma's there, slipping her hand into his and holding on tight.

"You're injured," she says, voice soft with sympathy. "Come with me. I'll fix you up and tell you all about it."

"What about you?" he asks, allowing himself to be tugged in the direction of the hangar. "Are you hurt?"

"Not a scratch," she promises. "There was a moment, where I thought—but, no. I'm not hurt."

"Thought what?" he presses. It's good for the cover, preferring to change the subject instead of facing the truth slowly dawning on him (or it would be, if he hadn't already known), but he also really wants to know. Jemma may not be injured, but she's worryingly pale, and he doesn't think it's entirely on his behalf.

She looks at him for a long moment, considering, and then sighs.

"Agent Triplett and I were taken into custody and brought before Agent Hand," she says. "She told us that we could either join HYDRA or die." She takes a deep breath. "We chose to die, at which point she revealed that it was a test."

"If you chose HYDRA, she knew she couldn't trust you," he completes. "That's…"

Kind of a flawed plan. For one thing, HYDRA agents don't all know each other, but a good part of them do; plenty of HYDRA agents would have slipped past that test, knowing that she wasn't HYDRA and realizing what she was up to. For another thing, actual loyal SHIELD agents might have gone along and pretended to join HYDRA, intending to bring it down from within.

There are a lot of ways it could have gone wrong. He's just grateful that Jemma didn't get caught in the crossfire.

They enter the hangar and head for the Bus. Jemma hesitates at the foot of the cargo ramp, staring up at the cargo bay—which is displaying obvious signs of the explosion—in surprise.

"What…?"

"If you think that's bad," he says. "You should see the cabin."

She shakes her head and starts up the ramp, her hand still tightly clasped around his.

"It's a horrible thing," she murmurs. "All of us turning against each other, with no idea who to trust…and HYDRA, hiding among us for all these years."

In the lab, she lets go of his hand and motions him to a stool as she crosses the room to fetch the first aid kit. He takes off his tac vest and then sits down carefully. His ribs are killing him, and he idly wishes he'd had time to hurt those foot soldiers a little more than he did. Those kicks he took did a lot of damage.

Jemma sets the first aid kit on the counter next to him and pulls on a pair of latex gloves, then takes out some antiseptic wipes.

"What happened here?" she asks, as she gets to work cleaning the blood off of his face.

"Broke some glass," he says.

She pauses. "With your face?"

"Yep."

"Well, that's one way to do it," she mutters.

She finishes cleaning the blood away and checks his various cuts and abrasions in silence. Luckily, nothing needs stitches, and she applies antibiotic ointment to the worst of them. She does so with very minimal fussing, and he's strongly reminded of two weeks ago, when she treated him after he threw down with May while under mind control.

He thought she was angry at him, then, although he was mistaken. This time he knows exactly why she's silent—because she's trying to think of a delicate way to convince him that the closest thing he has to a father is a traitor.

As much of a problem as Garrett being revealed is, Grant can't help the affection that swells in his chest. Because of course Jemma is more worried about how he'll feel about Garrett's betrayal than she is about everything else that happened today. SHIELD fell, she nearly died, and she undoubtedly had a terrifying few hours as she was separated from the team while Hand attempted to kill them, but she's not dwelling on that. No, he can tell from the little glances she darts at his face as she tends to his bruised knuckles that she's only worried about him, right now.

Finally, after everything—except his ribs, which he doesn't mention—has been seen to, Jemma strips off her gloves and throws them away with a sigh.

"Agent Hand had the room that Garrett and the team were in bugged," she says. "We heard everything he said to them."

Continuing with angry denials is probably the way to go, but he can't turn his anger against Jemma. Not after spending the past however many hours (he's entirely lost track, at this point) frantic over her. Not when she has that look on her face, when she's so obviously hurting for him.

So he lets himself sound tired, instead. "You misheard. Whatever he said, you just…you just misunderstood him. That's all."

"I'm sorry, Grant," she nearly whispers. "But we didn't. He confessed. Outright. And…"

"Maybe it was a trick," he suggests when she trails off. He slips desperation back into his tone. "Maybe he was testing them, like Hand did. Just saying he was the Clairvoyant to see how they reacted."

"It wasn't," she says. "I'm so sorry, but it wasn't a trick. He's the Clairvoyant, and he's been working for HYDRA this whole time."

"How do you know?" he asks, surging to his feet. "How do you know it wasn't a trick?"

She hesitates, then meets his eyes. In addition to sympathy and worry, there's grief and anger there, and he straightens.

"What?" he asks. "What is it?"

"What happened in January," she says, and swallows. "The kidnapping attempt…that was him."

That hits him like a punch to the gut, and he knows it shows on his face. He knew, of course, that Garrett was behind that—has already made clear to his mentor that they'll have to talk about his methods someday—but it's a shock to hear it.

That is not something Garrett just let slip. If he said that, it was deliberate. And there would be no reason for him to share that so early, to play that card with Coulson and the rest immediately after being revealed, unless…unless he knew that Hand was listening. If he knew the room was bugged, knew that Hand was hearing every word…

It wasn't a slip, he realizes. Garrett purposely let himself get caught, intentionally let them discover he was the Clairvoyant.

"No," he says, and the tremor in his voice is entirely real, because he knows what this means.

Garrett's decided to cut his losses with SHIELD. SHIELD is done, but Coulson and Hand won't see it that way. They'll want to keep going, to rebuild, and Garrett's decided to free himself from that obligation by letting them find out that he's a traitor.

But he's not going to spend the rest of his life in a cell. He's counting on Grant to break him out—or keep him from making it to the cell in the first place—and that's why he showed his hand on the kidnapping so early; to clear Grant of suspicion so that he can be in a position to free him.

They have dozens of contingency plans. Plans for this, for Garrett getting caught, for HYDRA coming out of the shadows, for SHIELD falling. Not all at once, not really, but they have plans that can be adapted to suit this situation. Breaking Garrett out won't be a problem.

The problem is in the fact that all of those plans were made before he met Jemma. None of them take her into account. And standing here, staring into her apologetic eyes, he can't think of a single one that lets him do right by Garrett and keep Jemma.

"No," he repeats.

"I'm sorry, Grant," she says. "He said—he intended to use me as leverage against you. He said that if he had me, if he threatened my life, you'd do whatever he told you to. He wouldn't have had to accompany us on the search for Tahiti, because you'd have shared every move we made with him…to save my life."

He curses, whirls away from her, and slams his fist into the cabinet above the sink. It makes the pain in his bruised knuckles flare, so he does it again. And again.

"Grant!" Jemma gasps. "Stop it!"

She grabs his arm, which is the only reason he doesn't keep hitting the cabinet, and then wraps her arms around his waist.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I'm so sorry. I know what he meant to you and I know you're angry. But hurting yourself won't change anything."

He slips his arms around her and closes his eyes, resting his chin against her head.

He can't see a way to keep her. None of the plans he's got will allow him to maintain his cover with the team. Actually, most of them involve faking his death so that he and Garrett can work from the shadows, without interference. None of those will work, of course, since Jemma's timer will remain green, but that's even worse.

He'd rather she think him dead and mourn him than think him a traitor and hate him. But he can't see a way around it.

They stand like that for a long while, as his mind races with plans and contingencies. He's trying desperately to draw up a plan that allows him to free Garrett without revealing himself.

Of course, it would help if he knew exactly what was going to be done with Garrett.

When they're interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing, some time later, he still hasn't thought of anything.

"Sorry," Trip says as Grant and Jemma part. "Just thought you'd like an update."

"Yeah," Grant says. His voice is hoarse, genuinely, and he clears his throat as he scrubs a hand across his face. "What's up?"

"HYDRA's everywhere," he says grimly. "There are a lot of bases under attack. But the Fridge is secure, and Hand wants Garrett there ASAP."

"Just Garrett?" Jemma asks.

"The others are gonna stay in holding cells 'til things settle down enough for a mass transport," Trip explains. "But Hand wants the traitor out of here."

"For interrogation," Grant surmises. "Find out what he knows about what."

"And then lock him in the Ice Box," Trip says with vicious satisfaction. "And throw away the damn key."

"So it's just going to be him," Grant muses. "A small transport that can pass under the radar. Smart."

"Less risk of HYDRA picking up the trail and staging a rescue," Trip agrees. "Can't say I'm crazy about her methods, but the woman knows what she's doing."

"Yeah," Grant says, watching the commiserating smiles Trip and Jemma exchange. "She does."

Unfortunately.

It's an opportunity. All Grant has to do is get on that transport, take out the guards that will be sent along, and he and Garrett are home free. It'll be easy. Even getting on the transport will be a snap—give Coulson some sentimental crap about needing to turn the key on Garrett's cell himself, and he'll be added to the prisoner detail at once.

Once again, the problem is Jemma.

If he does this—if he goes with Garrett and frees him and leaves SHIELD—there's no way he keeps Jemma.

Because when Jemma's timer stays green, so they know he's alive, but they never see him again? When they never hear from him, or from the rest of the guard detail, and when they realize that Garrett never arrived at the Fridge? They'll know he's a traitor. They'll know he's a traitor, and Jemma will never forgive him.

He might be able to string it out for a while—make sporadic contact, make excuses—but sooner or later, they'll realize the truth, and he'll lose her.

This is the last moment he gets with her.

"Anyway, that's all," Trip says. "You two can go back to your PDA."

"Actually," Grant says. "I'd like a word, if you don't mind. But, uh, could you give us a minute, first?"

Trip raises an eyebrow, but nods. "I'll wait in the hangar, take a look at the damage. Your plane's got more holes than the security at that base in Uttaradit."

He smirks a little, despite himself, at the memory. "Thanks."

Once Trip is gone, Grant looks down at Jemma. She's already watching him, with a very knowing look.

"You intend to go with him," she says. "Accompany Garrett to the Fridge."

"I have to," he says honestly.

"It's not your fault, Grant," Jemma says gently. "What Garrett did—"

"I should have known," he interrupts. But he doesn't want to continue. He should; he should draw it out, build up the story of his guilt over his supposed ignorance of Garrett's crimes. But he doesn't want to. If this is the last time he ever gets to see Jemma, he doesn't want to spend it lying to her.

So instead of continuing the lie, he says, simply and honestly, "This is something I have to do."

"Very well," she says, smiling sadly. "I won't stop you, then."

He wants to tell her to stop him. He wants her to beg him to stay so that he has an excuse not to go. He wants the excuse, the reason to shrug and say that he tried, but oh well. He wants to let Garrett get locked away.

But he can't. Garrett saved his life and his sanity and possibly even his soul. Garrett gave him a family, a purpose, a reason to live. Garrett is the only reason he made it long enough to meet Jemma. Garrett made him.

Grant can't turn his back on him now. He wishes he could. But he can't. Not even for Jemma.

There are tears burning in his throat. He doesn't want this. He doesn't want to say goodbye to her, after only six months. He spent his whole life waiting for her, and now he has to give her up.

It's worse than unfair.

Actually crying would be suspicious, not to mention really fucking embarrassing, so he leans down and kisses her to distract himself.

It's hungry and desperate and intense. He pours everything into it: all of his grief, his love for her, his anger that it has to end this way. All of the fear he felt today, from the moment he realized what was happening at the Hub until the moment he turned the corner to see her standing there, alive and well.

It's also a little painful, thanks to his split lip, but he doesn't let that stop him. He slides his hands around her waist and lifts her up, turning to set her down on the counter so he doesn't have to crane his neck as much, and keeps kissing her the whole time.

She's obviously more affected by the day's events than she's been letting on, because she meets him with just as much desperation. She slides one hand into his hair, slips the fingers of the other through one of his belt loops to tug him even closer, while he cups her face in both hands.

Eventually, she pulls back, breathless. He kisses his way along her jaw and down her neck, unwilling to pull away. This is the last moment he gets. The last kiss he gets.

She's wearing the necklace he gave her for Christmas, as she has at least three times a week, every week, since she opened it, and the sight of it hurts, because he knows that soon enough she'll know he's a traitor, and she'll never wear it again.

He sucks a mark into her neck, right above the chain of the necklace, and she gasps a little, then twines her fingers in his hair and tugs him away.

"You know the rules," she scolds playfully, but her eyes are worried as they meet his. "No marks that can't be hidden by clothes, remember?"

"Sorry," he says, mustering up what he knows is a very weak smile. "Couldn't resist."

"I'll be fine," she says. She thinks he's upset because he's worried about leaving her—and he is, but not in the way she thinks. "We probably won't even leave the Hub while you're gone. The Bus, as Agent Triplett mentioned, is in need of serious repair, after all."

"Right," he says. That's another worry; he's leaving and he won't return, so who's going to have her back? He can trust Trip and May, he knows that, but with Coulson and Hand in charge…

"I'll be fine," she repeats.

He leans forward and kisses her once more, gently this time. He keeps it short, because he has to—because he needs to leave now, or he never will.

"Of course you will," he agrees when he pulls back. "But…if you do leave the Hub, stick with Trip, okay?"

She nods. "Very well." She slides off of the table. "And when you come back, I still want to hear about San Diego."

Despite everything, he smiles. She has that effect on him.

"Okay," he agrees.

"I'm holding you to it," she warns.

He nods and takes her hand, lifting her wrist so that he can kiss her timer one last time. She'll come to hate it, he thinks, hate the reminder of the traitor that fate saddled her with. His timer was a comfort to him, when he had it—and oh, does he regret giving it up—but hers will be a torment. And that's a thought that aches more than the pain in his ribs.

"I love you," he says, and his voice, for all of his inner turmoil, is surprisingly steady. "Be safe."

"I love you," she echoes, and goes on her toes to kiss him one last time. "Come back soon."

"I will," he lies. Then he turns and walks away, leaving her behind.

Every step is agony, and that has nothing to do with his injuries.

He pauses to grab his jacket out of the back of the SUV, because it has his keys and he'll need them, and then leaves the Bus, putting it on as he goes. Trip is waiting in the hangar, as promised.

"What's up?" he asks, falling into step with Grant as he heads for the door.

"I'm going to accompany the transport to the Fridge," he says plainly.

Trip shakes his head. "Man…"

"I need to see this through, Trip," he says. "All these years…I trusted that bastard. I need to see him pay."

"I get it," Trip says. "Wouldn't mind seeing that myself. But you're not just telling me to keep me in the loop."

"No," he agrees. "I need a favor."

"You want me to watch your girl?" he guesses.

"I do," he says. "The rest of the team will keep an eye on her, but…let's just say I'm not as trusting as I was this morning."

"You think one of them might be a traitor, too?" Trip asks, suddenly serious.

"Probably not," Grant shrugs. "But I'd rather not take the chance."

Trip nods, understanding. "You know I've got your back, Ward. No one's getting near her. My word on that."

They've nearly reached the situation room, and Grant stops and offers Trip his hand.

"Thank you," he says, as they shake hands. "I owe you one."

"Call it even," Trip grins. "I owed you, anyway." He nods in the direction of the sit room, where one of Hand's agents is just leaving. "Transport's leaving any minute. I'll see you on the other side."

"Take care, Trip," Grant says.

"You too, man," he nods. "And, hey. You get a clear shot, take one for me too, would you?"

"Count on it," Grant agrees.

He leaves Trip in the hall and continues into the sit room. Hand is speaking to Coulson, and her words reveal an unexpected silver lining.

She's personally accompanying Garrett to the Fridge. Which means, when he takes control of the transport, he'll be taking her out. He'll finally be getting his revenge for what happened in South Ossetia. It's cold comfort, and it's not much compared to what he's losing, but it's better than nothing.

x

After brief goodbyes to the rest of the team, in which he orders Skye to keep up with her training—because SHIELD may be done, but he put a lot of work into her, and he doesn't want it to go to waste—and Fitz to take care of himself and Jemma, Grant follows Hand and two of her men onto the small transport that will be taking them to the Hub.

The men in question are Jacobson and Chaimson, and that's a lucky break. He's been considering, as he talked his way onto the prisoner detail and said his goodbyes, how quickly the deception might be noticed. Hand gave Coulson a burner phone to use to keep in contact with, and Grant will be able to use that to hide his actions for at least a little while—come up with some reason not to return directly from the Fridge, make excuses about Garrett's interrogation running long, whatever—but there's one variable he can't control: soulmate timers.

He's going to have to cross off all three of them to free Garrett, and that's where the choice of Chaimson and Jacobson is lucky. Because it would give the game away if the guard detail's soulmates suddenly showed up with red timers, demanding to know how they died.

Hand's soulmate is a specialist, Izzy Hartley, whose timer was removed years ago. She won't be a problem. And, fortunately, neither will Chaimson and Jacobson's. Chaimson because his soulmate died of cancer three years ago—Grant remembers the sympathy card that was getting passed around the Hub when he was called in for debriefing at the time—and Jacobson because he hasn't met his soulmate yet.

Which Grant knows because Jacobson is a field agent, not a specialist, and his timer is peeking out from his sleeve, still blue.

So. Timers won't be a problem.

Chaimson shoves Garrett down into one of the seats against the left wall of the transport, then sits down next to him. Grant takes a seat on the right wall as Jacobson heads for the cockpit to set a course for the Fridge.

Hand remains standing, eyes locked on Garrett.

Grant can't make his move until Jacobson gets back; can't risk Jacobson seeing what's happening and radioing back to the Hub to tip them off. So he sits back in his seat and waits. His mind goes automatically to Jemma, and he takes a deep breath. He can't think of her. He can't let himself dwell on the fact that he won't ever see her again—that if he does, she'll be looking at him with nothing but hate.

So he utilizes the techniques May taught him to put away his rage, this time to put away Jemma. It hurts to do it, but he has to.

He owes Garrett this much, if not more.

Eventually, Jacobson returns, reporting that the course is locked and sitting on Garrett's other side. It's time to make his move, but Grant finds himself hesitating. He knows what he has to do. He'll even enjoy it, in Hand's case, because he's never forgotten what that mission in South Ossetia nearly cost Jemma.

Jemma, again. She's why he's hesitating. Putting her aside didn't work at all.

Once he does this, that's it. This move, killing Hand, Jacobson, and Chaimson in order to free Garrett, is what's going to cost him his soulmate. She'll be alive and (hopefully) safe, but she'll never be his again. Once he does this and she learns about it, which she inevitably will, she'll never forgive him. He knows she won't.

So he hesitates, prolonging the last moments in which Jemma has no reason to hate him.

"He's not telling stories now, is he?" Hand asks.

Grant glances at her, then back to Garrett.

"You know what I'm thinking, Agent Garrett?" she continues. "I'm thinking the Ice Box of the Fridge is a little too comfortable for you. Maybe we should put you a little deeper underground."

Garrett turns his head slightly to glare up at her, but says nothing.

"What do you think, Agent Ward?" Hand asks, turning to him. "You shot the wrong Clairvoyant before. Care to shoot the right one?"

It's tempting. It's horribly, horribly tempting. Kill Garrett and let that be the end of this. Go back to the Hub, back to SHIELD, back to Jemma, and pretend that he's nothing but loyal. He could keep her, retain her love and trust, and never have to leave her behind. He might even be able to talk her away from SHIELD—which is all but destroyed, at this point—and into another, safer job.

It's tempting. All he has to do is pull the trigger. All he has to do is follow his orders, like he's always been trained—like Garrett taught him. All he has to do is obey the indirect order he's just been given.

He looks at Garrett for a long moment, then stands and unholsters his sidearm. He checks the magazine, then pulls back the slide, never looking away from Garrett.

Then he shoots Chaimson and Jacobson, one bullet each, right between the eyes, because it might be tempting, but he's not turning his back on Garrett.

He owes Garrett everything. He won't kill him. Not for anything. Certainly not for Victoria fucking Hand, who once left him to die.

Speaking of whom, she makes no move for her own sidearm. She just stares at him in shock as he brings the gun around on her and pulls the trigger. One bullet, center mass, and down she goes. He steps a little closer to her and adds a double tap, just for good measure.

And if, in his mind, he hears the sound of a door slamming closed on his relationship with Jemma…he ignores it.

It's done now. There's no going back.

---

A/N: Okay, so. That just happened. You may be asking yourself (if you're not too busy cursing my name) exactly what's going to happen next, and that's…a little complicated.

So! Allow me to explain.

It wasn't always my intention to have this episode go this way. In fact, one of the very first things I wrote for this series was a scene where Ward shoots Garrett. However, as the fic progressed and I got to know the characters better, I realized that it just didn't fit. Grant has grown and changed over the course of this story, but not to the point where he could turn his back on Garrett.

Part of this is because, as I've discussed with some of you, I've been a little caught by the framework of the show. There are certain things that I've been unable to change, because there are things that have to happen in order to make future episodes possible. If, for example, Grant had gotten his way in TRACKS and kept Jemma out of the mission, Skye very well may have actually died—which would definitely derail things, now wouldn't it?

So, what do you need to know?

First of all, this isn't the end of this story. The worst, as you know, is yet to come—if it comes at all. Just because this has remained the same doesn't mean that everything will. I know how this story ends, but don't assume that you do! Just some friendly advice, there. So, yes, sometimes will continue, and it will be my main focus.

HOWEVER. My brain really has a mind of its own (ha!), and it has often wandered to how things may have gone if I'd been able to change things as much as I would have liked. Accordingly, I have plenty of ideas on that front, too, and have been mostly unable to keep from writing them.

Therefore, I will be starting a new series—tentatively titled "break the glass." My side-story i dare you to move (like today never happened) will be moved to that series from this one, and it won't be alone there for long. I will be starting a story in the "break the glass" series (the title of which has yet to be decided) which will be a collection of unrelated one-shots examining other ways things could have gone. Yes, that's right—I'm writing AUs of my own AU, here. That's how deep I'm in.

Updates of "break the glass" will probably be sporadic—as I said above, this fic will remain my focus—but they will happen. Each chapter will be titled with the episode it spins off from and (possibly) something relating to what's changed. So, in the above example, the chapter title might be TRACKS: Grant Gets His Way. Get it? This way you can pick and choose which chapters you'd like to read.

Of course, you're not obligated to read everything that I write. If you like, consider it a "choose your own adventure" story—pick the path you want to see, and follow the appropriate series. Or you can read both, a little bit of "break the glass" to cheer you up after "before you fall" brings you down.

There will still be plenty of conflict in the other series, of course, but the "before you fall" series is what you might call the darkest timeline—lots of angst ahead.

And, in case you're wondering, the reason that the AU collection gets its own series, instead of just being added to this one, is because some of the one-shots may end up with follow-ups (like dare you to move did)—sometimes I really can't help myself—and I want to keep them separate instead of making the "before you fall" series crowded and confusing.

Okay, I think that's everything. Except I want to thank all of you for sticking with me for so long. I've never tackled a project of this size before—did you know, before this story, the longest thing I had ever written was 4500 words?—and I can't believe it got this far.

Thanks so much for your support and, as always, thank you so much for reading. See you next time!