Please note that a "suicide thoughts" warning will be in effect starting with this chapter. Somewhat conversely, I feel like the really dark stuff that was needed to take the characters to certain emotional starting points is finally behind us.
Everyone at SHIELD knew that Melinda May was an exceptional field agent. Few people ever understood that she was not exceptional because she could hit so hard and aim so true. She was an excellent professional because she knew to read a situation. Whom to take down first so that the others would turn tail after the fall of their leader, how to intercept somebody by allowing them to think they've got away. She could read people. The milliseconds of reaction time she had on others, she knew to use in order to observe. People she had fought against, she could read much better that the average. People she had fought with, for example Ward…
She could not really see him, but she did not need to. His weapons have always been the most important part of him. The way he set his shoulders had an effect on the way he ultimately held his gun – sometimes he tilted his head a little to the side, and other times he tilted the weapon instead. The angles of him could tell a story, and May had learned to understand them as soon as she realised he would not volunteer personal data verbally. Not that she needed such a refined read on him right now. He was doing exactly the same thing he had done as he last talked to Skye, pointing the weapon right at the middle of her bullet-proofed chest. Skye could be excused for not noticing the detail, that with her limited experience with guns pointing her way. She had been scared shitless and still fearless in her trademark, unassuming way, and would have certainly done and said exactly the same things had Ward been resting the cannon against her forehead. But May – May would have never allowed that conversation to take place had Ward truly exhibited the least of violent intentions.
What he was doing now was not in any way subtler than that. The weapon was at the ready, barrel at eye level, but pointing a couple of centimetres away from May's head. For a specialist in the middle of an operation, it was the equivalent of a parade rest between one assault and the next.
And so she kept as still as the dead man at her feet, avoiding the knee jerk reaction of levelling her own weapon in a move that was sure to set Ward off. She was rewarded with deep silence, quiet darkness, and her capacity to painlessly draw in another breath. Why? What was he waiting for, if even he was waiting? A couple of centimetres off to the right, that was all that May had to go on. Everything from one of SHIELD's best snipers. Nothing from a cornered traitor.
She thought about trying for a fight, seeing if she could be quick enough to get him with her icer, and maybe the attackers would find them sometime – one dead, one knocked off – and then be smart enough to finish what May started. She would most likely fail, seeing as her icer was still pointing to the floor, but she could try. She should try. It was the obvious solution. Still, she looked at Ward's gun, counted the seconds of this silent confrontation, rewound their previous encounters and did not move at all.
She was rewarded once again with her continuing existence. Then came a step, and the shadow condensed in the familiar shape making a cautious way toward her own position. Gun at the ready, but not quite pointed at her. Coiled to attack, but not attacking May. Listening up, eyes searching…
It clicked into place.
"The basement is clear".
It seemed like a huge mistake on the surface, informing him that there were no more common enemies, but Ward just nodded and allowed himself to shift the gun a couple centimetres down. His body language was still that of an ally, a couple more steps serving to move slightly to the side and stop completely blocking May's way out of the corridor. She knew now what she had previously done wrong. She and the last of military guys had both played at being the predator, following their bait and walking right into the trap. Ward on the contrary had played the prey, had led them to a dead end and vaulted over crates to double back and corner both. Retrospectively, he must have also gunned down the guy with Coulson's gun, thus liberating her from that pinned down position. Why did he even do it? He could not really be thinking that he would win himself some Phil approval points that way.
As seconds ticked – no more than five could have passed by since the beginning of their eerie showdown – May could see signs of him beginning to tense up, coming out of the ally headspace and closing up in self-protection mode. Ward's shoulders came a little up the same way they did when May opened his cell, then relaxed. The gun came up and levelled with his eyelevel. It was becoming clear that he had not really thought this all the way through, and that whatever Ward's good will toward May was, wherever place it had come from, she was losing it at terrifying pace. He seemed to contemplate just what would happen – would keep happening – to him if he did not pull the trigger right away. How could he have forgotten such a thing in the first place was a mystery to May. Reading body language did not give her insight into actual thoughts. She honestly did not know what any of this hesitation was, coming from him. She knew just one thing, though: she had to bank onto it if she wanted to live, and soon.
She started by carefully clicking back the safety on her icer. A void gesture, as it was no use to her against Ward anyway. That did not get her any reaction, and so she cautiously, carefully – but never warily, never making him think she was afraid of him – bent down to pick the gun off the dead soldier. Doing so could easily be seen as an offensive movement, but then again, she counted on Ward knowing it was not. He still could kill her ten times over if he wanted to, before she got up from the floor.
She checked the weapon, making a point of never pointing anywhere near him. The magazine was almost empty. May bristled and stood up. Ward was still keeping to the side, implicitly avoiding cornering her in the enclosed space. She walked toward him, almost past him, still making a point to not look at him but fleetingly.
"There are at least four other guys upstairs. You know the layout?"
If you wanted somebody to agree with you, you had to start with easy questions, ones you were sure the subject would answer "yes" to. And May wanted it so much. Wanted to live, and even more than that she just did not want to die so uselessly, taken down by her own carelessness and stupidity.
"Yes."
"Go take them down."
Voice steady and reasonable, like she had all the right to give him such an order. A hint of steel to throw him off. Coulson would have a fit about her taking such a risks, but May could actually see no risk at all. She was living on borrowed time, prison guard watched by her prisioner through an eyehole of a gun.
He pivoted perfectly, a hunting dog ordered to go, and was off into the darkness before May could finish describing the full thought process behind her bluffing. Still barefoot, she noted with detached bewilderment that filtered through sheer relief, armed with a pistol that certainly had a half emptied magazine. Oh well. She had talked Ward into letting her go for now, so hopefully she would have some time before he finally decided to snap out of his creepy obedience. If he made himself useful in the process, all the better.
May contemplated the machine gun once again, then put it down and went in search of Phil's dream weapon. There was a rocket launcher out there, ready to make another hole in their walls if the initial assault proved unsuccessful. The Tesseract weapon of doom wasn't hot to touch like any normal earthly weapon fired so many times in a row would be. Nor was it as heavy as May had expected, but certainly huge enough to be really uncomfortable when brought up several flights of narrow steps. The cargo area proved to still be void of any life, except that now there was a body with a broken neck dumped unceremoniously near the blown out entrance. It seemed that the attackers have finally posted a lookout, and also that Ward was indeed proveing himself useful. He had to relish the unexpected opportunity to come out of the cage and play, at least. All seemed to still be quiet in the living quarters, which she took for the sign of him being the professional he was trained to be. It was a promising start, but still very far away from giving May a fluffy feeling. Until this was over, she would consider herself to be dealing with two different hostile parties.
She marched to the opening, peering outside. The truck with the launcher was stationed some twenty meters away. She seized her weapon for equilibrium, weight, stability and inner resistance of the trigger. How was the dispersion range? It was to be her first shot, and at a much larger distance than the two meters Coulson shot Loki from.
Four… no, five shots in quick succession came from somewhere deep in the compound, and were immediately drowned by machine gun fire. Ward did not get them all from the get go, which meant he would now have to work a lot more. The practical, detached part of May found itself wishing they all would kill each other in the end. Ward would surely be clever enough to count himself lucky for such an out, given his alternatives. He would not get very far if he tried to run without crossing off May first, and that opportunity had sailed.
She stepped into the gap, opened fire. She was prepared for recoil, but in reality felt almost no heat and no vibration coming from the weapon. She peered back into the opening carefully. There was no truck to be seen this time.
Oh well.
The gun fire was getting stronger from the direction of the kitchen, but May wasn't too quick to go in search of it. She walked there, sure, but she did it rather leisurely. And sure enough, the sound of bullets flying by had all but stopped by the time she got close to the area. The guy with the machine had either run out of ammunition, or had been taken on. Probably the latter, judging by the noise of bodies being thrown around. May followed the sounds. In the war room, she found three dead guys with bullets holes in them. Another one seemed relatively unharmed, but he was dozing on the floor and looking out of sorts. He actually was the one with the machine gun, which was now waiting to be picked up. May happily obliged. She paused for a little while, listening, aware that the main fight had moved its position once more. She frowned; there were obviously more then just the four guys she had initially counted.
There were still three of them alive and kicking, she saw upon finally reaching the gym area that was now serving as an arena for the fight. One was holding Ward in a double-handed grip and kindly giving his colleagues the opening they needed. As May watched, Ward avoided getting punched in the solar plexus but got hit in the ribs twice, than forced his right foot into his attacker's knee hard enough to have broken the patella had he had his usual choice of boots on, got lashed at blindly in return and kicked out at the second guy – this time into the crotch area. The man doubled over, Ward dropped down to force the guy immobilizing him let go of his arms, turned around crouching and came back up right behind his back. The sweeping motion kicked the guy's feet from under him, sending him crashing to the mat and completing the sequence.
May frowned once again. The struggle seemed to be going on for way too long. Ward had obviously lost his weapon, but still. Three to one, he should have been able to disable them in under a minute, but not with the basic moves of a level two fighting he had going on right now. He did not even completely go through with this attack, May noted critically. The classic ending move would have been to pull the victim back after having pushing it forward, misbalancing it enough for a quick clean turn of the neck. That would have definitely put an end to the assault; what Ward was doing was only prolonging it. As May watched he actually fell back, stumbling several steps away and doubling over shortly, grimacing in pain.
Sure enough, the third man came right up from the mat and came at him while other two recuperated. Ward met him with an evasion and an approximation of a judo throw that sent him into some training apparel. Another avoiding tactic, but one that finally proved effective enough, as illustrated by Ward pulling a stopper and making all the weights rain down onto the guy's left hand. Undisciplined fool he was, he howled pain instead of looking for the ending blow.
One down, two really enraged ones to go. The one that got the nut kick got up first, was somewhat half-heartedly repelled away, joined forces with the other one and actually almost managed to throw Ward down. By then it was completely obvious that there was something fundamentally wrong with him, but May was having trouble identifying cause. He wasn't shot and nothing looked broken. He was not engaging, though, and moved like he already was exhausted. Once again, he bystepped the guys, landed some punches on his own, got thrown down, but then got hold of Skye's skipping rope and used it in a sort of a lasso manoeuvre that ended with one guy with his legs completely trapped twitching on the floor, and the other one finally all but neutralised in a chocking hold. May was sure he was finally down for the count, but somehow Ward again failed to end the sequence properly – and what the hell was wrong? – and basically let the guy wriggle himself free.
By now May had identified all the factors contributing to the problem. One was that Ward was indeed utterly exhausted. Which, now that she thought about it, she should have guessed earlier on. Two week of almost complete immobility, borderline starvation, questionable sleep arrangements and ongoing pain. No wonder all of Ward's movements looked strained. He executed his moves correctly enough, but the sheer physical strength needed to complete the exercise failed him in the end. Worse was the laboured, panting breathing he had going on. Apparently, broken larynxes tended to become a highly limiting factor as to how much physical exertion one could get away with. His body was starting to shut off, lungs working but not sucking in anything close to a satisfactory amount of oxygen. On top of all that, going barefoot against protection gear of well equipped soldiers did not constitute a sound strategy in any circumstances.
Ward pressed his hand to the wall in the effort to stay upright, but all the same visibly doubled over for a second. The two guys stalked him, limping and bleeding but evidently excited. The backing away and the creepy stalking went on for a little while. All three were so concentrated on their game that they had yet to notice May. The guy with the bruised nuts was once again the first to lunge. The impact sent both him and Ward crashing back into the kitchen. This time they did not manage to get up. Ward rolled with his first attacker, doing his best to use his body as a shield against the second one. For a couple of moments, all there was to see was a whirlwind of hitting limbs, and then the three disappeared from May's view behind the isle. She straightened out from her hiding place, suddenly aware of her own inaction in a fight that surely had gone on hard and long enough, looking for an opening wide enough to cross off the attackers without peppering Ward with bullets in the process. But for the third time in one day, he proved to be quicker then her. Three shots in quick succession went off behind the counter. There was a check up pause, and then another shot. All movement had ceased after that, not counting Ward slowly getting up from the floor, leaning on the counter for support. May looked for signs that he had played up his weakness to convincingly fall back and gain himself a weapon, but he was definitely pretty worked up. The struggle for air could not be faked; every breath came with a little wheezing bruised sound.
It did not take him long to notice May. Immediately he let go of the isle, falling back against the back wall instead. Next thing she knew, his gun was up and ready, pointed dead centre at her forehead. This time there was no room for interpretation, no pointing off centre, no parade rest. Just coiled up, will-go-down-fighting determination mixed up with no small amount of dread. Double handed grip again, for once completely justified as his entire body shook with overwrought exhaustion, the strength needed just to keep arms up abandoning him at alarming rate. Ready to fire, and still no doing it just yet. Just pressing his back against the wall as if he could recoil yet further from May, sucking in breath after breath. Waiting.
May did the same thing that had already worked once and took a step toward him. Still, she was aware she was walking into a completely different standoff this time. There was no common enemy to distract them any longer, and with the way Ward was positively panting for breath... May did not need to be a shrink to take a guess at where his current thought process was going.
She took another self assured step. Ward all but flinched, but the weapon he held became a little steadier for it.
"Don't move" he said. The effort alone got high points from her, as he almost succeeded in making it sound like an order.
"Stand down".
That was a real order. May sure hoped it would come through as well as the last time. Ward sure did have a thing for them. Another step in his direction, to physically emphasize the illusory right to command. It was a pity that she was no Garrett apparently, as all she got was another wince and a sound eery similar to growl.
"Don't move", he gritted, a little angrier but still mostly distressed. May was starting to suspect that, for reasons unknown, Ward truly lacked the capacity to shoot her.
"Stand down", she repeated.
And then what? The little voice was an unwelcome nuisance, more so as she could read the same question written in his eyes. He wasn't going back down to his cell, if not for deep ethical reasons, than simply because he had just proved how easily he could pick his way out of it. He also wasn't going to walk free. For all the advantage he held, as long as he could not bring himself to cross off May, he was completely stuck in a one sided stalemate. She could see the exact moment Ward came to the same conclusion, and the moment when he came to terms with it, elbows unlocking so that his weapon came to be held closer to his body. The transformation was subtle, but obvious for everyne who cared enough to see. Distress washed away, giving place to sombre calculation. His eyes turned much colder, but not fight-cold. He was, May was completely sure of it, wondering if he should force her hand – and she would definitely shoot to kill if startled badly enough, for all that she could guess at the ultimate intent behind the provocation – or he could well end it himself. That seemed to be the main plan, judging from the way he slightly tilted his head back, baring his chin for better access.
Stop it, you idiot.
You have just earned yourself some points, keep up instead of doing down.
Ward, damn it, calm down, I swear it is over. I am so very sorry.
She was no shrink, and she said nothing of the sorts, just lowered her weapon and left it on the counter, even though he was still formally pointing more at her than at himself. If she was to be shot today, then so be it. She was so done with this. There would not be any spilled tears, if..., but she was not so completely stone hearted as to look on passively and simply deny her role in all of this. There were enough demons in her bed at night to not want the knowledge that she had driven a man to suicide added to that. May made herself turn around, her entire body tingling with the ungodly sensation of an armed, active enemy at her six. She walked to the sink, filled a glass with water and swallowed hard and long. Filled another one and made it slide in Ward's direction. Cracked her neck, pushed the hair out of her eyes, walked to the table, made eye contact.
"Marines or Army, what do you think?" she asked sitting down.
She knew the answer, she had met these guys, and yet she wanted this one question answered more then she had wanted any of ones she had thrown at Ward in the last miserable month.
"Army", he said after a while, the kind of automatic response one would give if asked if two plus two equalled four or five.
"Incompetent assholes", she went on but it was all completely wrong, there was no bonding to be found in that direction as Ward was arguably feeling closer to said SHIELD-hating assholes than he would ever feel to May. True enough, he answered nothing, only eyed the water for a second like he had never seen the likes of it, and then kept on eyeing May. His silent scrutiny made her feel as exhausted as he looked.
"Good job. Now quit pointing at me and come sit down before you faint", she said at last, no real steel left in her voice. Now that she had said it, it was as if her voicing it aloud had made it true. A slow full body shudder made its way through Ward. His arms fell down on their own accord, the muscles no longer strong enough to keep up with his will. His eyes closed for a second, the entire body going lax. The gun hung down uselessly from his hand. May fought the urge to lunge for it, and sure enough: eventually he opened his eyes and offered it wordlessly, grip first. She took it just as wordlessly and got up to help him to the chair.