A/N: We finally meet Monica Rappaccini this chapter.

Only Fools Fall in Love

It hadn't even been five minutes before Melinda and Grant were met by almost a dozen AIM agents. "Shit, they know we're here!" They dove behind the nearest cover, a metal cart, just in time to avoid the initial barrage of gun fire. He waited until it died down and for the sound of reloading before he opened fire. His shots were in short bursts and highly accurate. Half of them were dropped in his initial salvo before he had to duck back down.

Melinda looked at his laser gun. "Where's mine?"

He smirked and rose up to shoot two more. "Sorry, you don't get one."

Her face sunk into what looked suspiciously like a pout. "I'll be talking to Fitz when we're done here."

His smirk rose. "God, you're so adorable." He shot upward to finish off the remaining agents, even deftly avoiding several gunshots to show off.

She glared.

He smiled.

She glared harder.

He cleared his throat. "Sorry."

They both stood up and surveyed the area. A dozen bodies laid in a heap in the middle of the hallway. Melinda hurried and grabbed a pair of rifles, and threw one of them to Grant. "This way." They ran down the remainder of the hall, and then rounded the corner. Quickly, they took out the three agents stalking toward them and kept moving. "I couldn't help but notice that you've been avoiding me since Ireland."

He couldn't help but grin. It had only been five hours since they left for Boca Caliente and she missed his company. "Miss me?" he asked smugly.

"Hardly. I was just wondering why you didn't come up to the cockpit to cause me trouble like you always do."

She totally missed him. "Sure you were. I just needed some time to myself." He debated telling her about his dream. Eh, why not? "It ended up turning into a pretty kickass dream."

Her eyebrow rose as she blasted two agents into the wall behind them. "Is that so? Was it about me?"

"Is the sky blue?"

Her eyes rolled, and so did the man in front of her when she roundhouse kicked him into unconsciousness. "Alright, I'll bite. What was I doing?"

"Moaning." He smirked when her eyes widened a bit. "Had Skye not woke me up, you would've been getting fucked. Hard."

Her face remained serious, despite having turned deep red. "Well… I'm glad I could give you such vivid…" She trailed off.

Grant frowned and looked from her to the end of the hall where her gaze laid. Monica Rappaccini was standing there, in front of a doorway, completely alone and unarmed. "Rappaccini! By the authority of SHIELD, you're under arrest!" Melinda yelled as she raised her gun. "Hands where I can see them."

Grant had his pistol raised and trained on her forehead. Monica sighed and raised her hands. "You peons don't know who you're dealing with," she said.

"We're not the ones standing around unarmed," he retorted.

Her grin sent chills up his spine, and not the good kind that Melinda sent. The bad kind; the kind that usually proceeded something terribly shitty happening. Suddenly, she tossed a metal ball toward them. Instinctively, they both opened fire. The bullets and lasers ricocheted off of an invisible force field that Monica had erected in front of herself. "What the shit?"

"Like I said, no idea. How would you like some methoxyfluran?"

The ball beneath them exploded, loosing a pressurized cloud of penthrane into their airways. They both breathed in a healthy amount and immediately felt dizzy. "Sle-sleeping ga-" They were both out cold before she could finish.

Monica smirked and lowered her hands slowly. A pair of agents walked out of the room behind her. "Collect them and strap them up. Time to have some fun."

Grant's shaking hand reached over to stroke Melinda's bare back. She looked so divine in the post-sex bliss they both found themselves in. Lying on her stomach, she turned her head and flashed a rare smile. He could feel his heart overflowing with some emotion that he knew that neither of them had any business feeling. Still, he didn't care, and he hoped she didn't either. "I love you," he whispered.

Her smile grew into a full grin, and she opened her mouth to reply. "I – Time to wake up, sleepy head."

Grant's eyes fluttered open. The blurry visage of a brunette woman was the first thing he could make out. "Melinda?" he uttered quietly.

"Ooh, sorry. Wrong answer." A hard slap to the face shocked him back into coherency. His vision cleared eventually. He was in some kind of medical room, if the operating table and tray full of medical equipment were any indication. The smell of alcohol and sterilization filled his nostrils. "But don't worry. You're little friend is right next to you."

He turned his head from the smirking Monica to the still unconscious Melinda. "May? If you touched one hair on her head…," he growled.

She rolled her eyes. "Please. As if you're in any position to do anything about it." To prove her point, she reached over and ran her fingers through her hair. He lunged at her and, sure enough, found himself bound to a steel chair with leather straps on his wrists and ankles, and a thick steel chain around his waist. "Now then, if you're finished with the macho posturing for your sleeping girlfriend, we have things to do."

"She is not my girlfriend." He swallowed and suspired deeply. "Coulson will be here soon, so you're playtime is quickly coming to a end, lady. Give up now, and I might convince May to go easy on you." As he said this, her soft moans signaled her coming to. "Tick-tock, Rappaccini."

Monica snorted, and then snapped her fingers. Two guards that Grant couldn't see stepped forward and quickly undid Melinda's bonds, and then lifted her limp body out of the chair. They carried her to the operating table and strapped her down. "You think I'm afraid of the… what was it… ah yes, the Cavalry. You think I'm afraid of the Cavalry?"

He couldn't answer. Any retort he had been thinking of died as soon as they strapped her onto the table. His heart and mind were racing. "Wha- what are you doing?"

"Conducting a little experiment. You don't mind, do you?" She smiled sardonically and turned toward the table.

"…Grant?"

"Oh, and the girlfriend is awake! How exciting!" Monica took off her gold gauntlets and replaced them with a pair of latex gloves. The snap of the elastic on her wrist sent him into a panic.

"Wait, stop!"

"What the hell is this?" She was hiding it well, but he had been with her enough times to detect the rising panic in her voice.

"First, we need to get rid of her jacket and shirt, and then I can make a Y incision into her chest."

An autopsy? "She's alive! Why are you about to perform an autopsy on a living person?!"

"Who said anything about an autopsy, you fool. Although…" She reached up and brought over what looked like a large overhead lamp and hovered it over Melinda. It clicked on, and with a low hum, a deep red light washed over her. "That should do it. It'll keep her alive and stop any bleeding while she's being cut open."

At that, Melinda started struggling fiercely, albeit futilely. She jerked her arm so rough that it nearly dislocated her wrist.

"Her jacket and shirt," she repeated tersely. Grant watched helplessly as a herculean agent tore Melinda's jacket open, and then grabbed hold of the black spandex shirt she wore underneath.

"Get your fucking hands off of me!" Melinda squirmed and struggled in his grip, and then bit back a scream when her shirt was ripped off. Thank God she was wearing a bra.

Grant was frantic in his struggling. He was thinking of any and everything that he could do to stop this from happening. He watched her eyes widen when her bra was cut open. His blood started boiling and all he could see was red. Anger, not unlike the kind he felt when exposed to the Berzerker staff, filled his mind with violent thoughts of tearing every last one of those fuckers limb from limb.

Monica placed her hand on Melinda's chest to hold her still and steadied a glimmering scalpel near her right collarbone. "You won't bleed," she stated, green eyes shimmering with a crazed yearning for knowledge, "but this will hurt. A lot." Without warning, she pierced her skin. No blood appeared, as promised, but she was barely able to hold back a pained scream. "Hm, not a screamer, huh? Good." With expert care, she guided the scalpel diagonally down her chest.

She was halfway to her right breast when, "STOP!" Monica halted her incision, to Melinda's delight, and turned her head to the left to glance at Grant. He was breathing heavily and shaking with barely contained rage. "Take me instead," he offered in an eerily calm voice.

Monica removed the scalpel from her chest completely and turned completely around. "Why?"

He opened his mouth to lie, but was too angry and scared to think of one that she would believe. So, he went with the truth. "I… I can't let you hurt her. Hurt me instead."

"Grant." His eyes cut from Monica to Melinda who was frantically shaking her head. He saw the near six inch long incision and grimace. "Don't."

He mustered up the gall to smirk. "Sorry, mind's already made up. So, what do you say, Rappaccini? You'll even get to see me with my shirt off."

Monica rubbed her chin in thought. It was the longest moment in Grant's life. "Fine," she said with a shrug.

"No! Grant, you can't!"

His eyes never left her. She hid it well, but he could see it all. Anger. Pain. Fear. The last because of him. She was scared for him. They held each other's gaze from what seemed like an eternity. He tried to convey to her that he had a plan. Monica's scalpel hand was right next to her table, grip loose and within reaching distance. As soon as one of her hands were free, she could grab it and stab Rappaccini. Fatally or not, it didn't matter. From there, she could do her thing, be the Cavalry and teach these fucks not to fuck with SHIELD.

He smirked and conveyed that she shouldn't worry, that everything was going to turn out oka- They stabbed a syringe into her neck, and he watched her pupils dilate. Her face relaxed and her head swayed, as if she was struggling to keep it up. "You… idiot…" Her head thumped against the hard metal table.

Shit. That wasn't supposed to fucking happen. He flinched when he felt a needle being pushed into his neck. Her vision instantly blurred. He felt hot, and tired. He wanted to go to sleep for a week, but he had to save Melinda. He had to escape. Darkness was rapidly swallowing his vision, until Monica's torso was a small green dot in the middle of the night. "…fuck…" His head slumped forward as he succumbed to the blackness.