Like I said, this chapter gives you new perspectives to Leo's and Grant's character. Regarding to Grant's story (as to how he was found tied up to the house's radiator) there are some triggers such as violence against children and mentions of rape. Speaking of Leo's story is far more interesting. You get to learn who his father really is. It's an unthinkable choice but because it's so unthinkable it just gave me even more the appeal to go through with the idea. You're gonna go WTF, and I'm already expecting it very patiently. I loved the idea I conceived mainly because it's so WTF.

There will be more notes at the end, and the translation of the sentence in Spanish is also there.

"You don't have to be here, Phil," May spoke, kneeling on the bathroom floor, her forearms resting on the sides of the toilet basin.

"I promised to stay by your side in health and sickness when we married," he patted her back, "I'm honoring our vows. And being a supporting husband."

"If you could throw up for me that would be supportive. Other than that you're just a -"

Coulson somewhat appreciated that May threw up again because he could tell that she wasn't going to say anything nice. "Come on, get it all out."

"Not helping at all," May growled, "I think I might puke my stomach out."

"Want me to get you some tea?" Coulson asked, rubbing his wife's back but looking away as she threw up again.

May's hand groped around until she managed to flush the toilet and then she sat back until she was resting on the tiled floor, "Tea would be good."

"You think you may have caught something during the mission?"

"Uh, don't think so," May covered her mouth, feeling the nausea overwhelming her body again (luckily, this time it was a false alarm), "Leo was sick, so I must have gotten it from him."

"Yeah," Coulson placed a kiss on the top of her head, "whatever it is, let's hope it ends with you."

She playfully pinched his thigh, "Go get me that tea."

Coulson left to go to the kitchen and May thought of moving from the bathroom floor to her bed. However, when she tried to push herself up from the floor, she felt like someone had kicked her in the lower part of her stomach.

"Really?" May stared down at herself, "It's been some twenty odd years since I had cramps like this," she murmured while grimacing, and, once she got on her feet, she had to hold on tight to the washbasin's edge, "Oh, and now this."

Her world was spinning, she was feeling terrible cramps, and she still felt tired, sore and nauseated. Friday night after a field mission had never been so interesting, she thought sarcastically as she dragged herself to bed. In the kitchen, Coulson was preparing a mug of tea for May when he was surprised by Grant. The man was so startled by the kid's presence that he swallowed fifteen different curse words so as to not traumatize the kid.

"What're you doing here?" Grant took a seat instead of answering, "Can't sleep?"

"No. And I kind of want to ask you something."

Coulson sighed – it was past one in the morning and Grant had something ask him? That didn't give him a good vibe. "Alright, let me just get this tea to your mother. I'll be right back."

When he returned, Grant was still taciturn and pensive. He pulled out a chair and sat next to him. "Tell me what's going on."

"I guess I have to explain something to you first."

"I'm all ears."

Grant adjusted his position in the chair before beginning, "Back at my old house, my father used to say I was weak. He beat me up a lot just because he felt like it, I guess, and when he was tired, he asked Christian to continue beating me."

"Grant, that's all over now."

"I know. He said Christian and I were monsters, he said that Sarah would grow up to be a whore - I don't even know what that means. But only Thomas was good. Only he was perfect."

"Who are Sarah and Thomas?"

"They're my brother and sister. Sarah should be twelve now, and Thomas, two."

"You never – no one ever said -"

"I know. That's why I'm telling you this. One night..."

"Dad, please," Grant mewled and sobbed, "I'll be a better man from now on."

"Shut up, Grant," Brody ordered, whipping the boy's bare back with his belt, "It's in the Wards' blood to be monsters."

Grant gripped the edges of the table strongly, digging his nails deeply into the wooden cover. He silently sobbed and big tears rushed down his face. Every now and then a gross sob escaped his mouth, which led to Brody's angry shout, "Shut up, Grant!"

There wasn't a bit of skin on his back that wasn't red and hurting. Grant trembled already and screeched despite his father's commands. He couldn't take it any longer. Neither could Brody. His arm hurt already. So, he dropped the belt on the floor and Grant relaxed, thinking it was all over. The man opened the fridge, picked up a beer, and sat in a chair.

"Christian, c'mere," Grant cried harder, hearing his father call his brother. Once the teenager showed up, Brody ordered, "Pick up the belt and hit him." Christian didn't react, "Hit him or you're next."

"Christian, please, don't," Grant begged, looking at him. He shifted his gaze to their father, "Dad, please. I'll be a -"

"Shut up, Grant," his brother hissed, picking up the belt and whipping him strongly across his back.

Brody crossed his leg, taking a sip on his beer, "Harder, Christian. I don't raise sheep in this house. I raise wolves."

It didn't matter how much Grant begged. Christian liked hitting him as much as their dad did. Every time Brody beat up Christian he'd then take his revenge by hitting his brother. Their mother didn't interfere, keeping quiet and pretending she couldn't hear the whipping sounds. Grant wondered if Dad hurt Sarah too, because she hated him and trembled every time he got close to her, but he had never seen his father lay a finger on her. Christian told him their father raped Sarah almost every night; poor Grant didn't even know what the word meant. All he knew was that he did bad things to her too. But not to Thomas. He cradled the baby in his arms, cooed to him, treated him with care and affection. Brody said only Thomas was good; Sarah, Grant and Christian were bad. Bad children, bad people, they were monsters, basically.

Coulson hugged Grant, "It's ok now. Don't think about those thi -"

"I did something that night."

His father parted from the hug, and looked into his eyes, saying in the sweetest and gentlest way possible, "What did you do?"

Grant could barely breathe. He shook heavily, kneeling before the toilet, throwing up the contents of his stomach. He stood on his feet and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was pale, his eyes red, and he turned to get a look at his back. Old bruises mixed with the more recent ones. He didn't remember his back being a normal color; it was always red, then purplish and finally black. He put on his shirt with silent groans and then stepped out into the bathroom. He peeked into the living room. The TV was on, but his father was knocked out having downed half a bottle of scotch. His mother and Christian slept in their bedrooms as if nothing had ever happened. The boy entered his sister's bedroom, watching her ball up under her covers, fearing it was Brody entering. Grant pressed his index finger against his lips and made a shushing sound so that she wouldn't speak.

"Get dressed," he told her. Seeing that she didn't move, he repeated a bit louder, "Get dressed, Sarah. I'll be right back."

Sarah nodded and slid out of bed, slipping into her clothes. Grant went to his parents' bedroom and started looking for the baby sling carrier - or the kangaroo strap, as he called it. Once he found it, he attached it to his chest and walked to the crib where his baby brother slept. After lowering the iron gates, he carefully picked Thomas up and pressed him against his chest, strapping him into the carrier. Thomas slept unperturbed, his cheek resting against his brother's chest, but his weight on Grant's shoulders made his back hurt and he shut his eyes tightly and sighed deeply, tears dripping down his cheeks. One of them fell on Thomas' few brownish hairs. Grant wiped his brother's hair with his thumb, mouthing a silent 'sorry' and then he walked out of the bedroom, going back to his sister.

"You're ready?" he asked Sarah as soon as he opened the door.

"Where are we going?" Sarah limped to him.

Right… he forgot that Sarah was hurt, but he couldn't even imagine that it was his father who had hurt her when he had raped her the night before and had almost broken her leg. He held her hand and the three walked to the kitchen, heading towards the door that accessed the backyard. Once they were out on the porch and hadn't been caught, Grant climbed down the two steps of the porch and stopped.

"Climb up," he said, "I'll carry you."

Sarah was older than he was – a year, sure, but older – and he was hurt and carrying their baby brother in a sling, "I'll hurt you, Grant."

"Climb up."

She did as he asked, apologizing when she heard him gritting his teeth and failing at containing his tears and sobs, "Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you two away."

Grant walked miles, crying with every step but he didn't give up. Not until he made it into the city's downtown.

"What did you do to them, Grant?"

The boy looked at his father, pride filling his chest, "I got into an alley, put Sarah down, and gave Thomas to her. Then I pointed out the way to the fire station across the street and told her to lie about our family. I told her she'd have to say that she didn't remember me or Christian or our parents because I knew our father would really want to get Thomas back, so no one could know. I guess she lied really well because she never showed up at the house again. The next day my father beat up Christian a lot and he ran away. Then he turned to me, realizing it was me who took Sarah and Thomas away." He lowered his eyes to his lap, playing with his fingers, "I don't remember much after that. I only remember waking up tied to the radiator and the police walking into the house."

Coulson cradled Grant's face and pressed a kiss on the top of his head. "You are an angel, Grant. You're not a monster. What you did, carrying your siblings for miles to keep them safe? I don't think I'd have the guts or the strength." He took a deep breath and resumed speaking, "I guess what you want to ask me is to look for Sarah and Thomas?"

"Not really," Grant looked up, "I want you to teach me how to be a sheepdog."

"A sheepdog?" Coulson asked.

Grant could hear his father's words echoed in his head, "My father used to say that,

"There are three types of people in this world: sheep, wolves and sheepdogs. Some people believe that the devil doesn't exist in the world and if hatred appeared at their door they wouldn't know how to protect themselves. Those are the sheep, and I'm not raising any sheep in the house. Am I?"

"No, Sir," Christian and Grant answered together, even if the tone of the youngest was much quieter.

"Good," Brody said and resumed, "Wolves are predators. They use violence to prey on the weak. These are the ones you are. You are wolves."

Grant knew he'd probably regret asking but he questioned anyway after his father fell silent and continued to eat, "What are the others?" Brody looked at his son, "You said that there are three types of people in the world. What are the third ones?"

"Sheepdogs. Those are blessed with talented aggression and a good heart to care for the others. They're a rare breed and I'm not raising those at home. The Ward men are all monsters. That's inherited and you can't escape that fate. Only Thomas broke the curse."

"Teach me how to be a sheepdog," Grant asked, eyes brimming with tears as he looked at Coulson, "I'm not a Ward anymore."

"Come with me," Coulson said as he stood up, "It's time you know about it."

Coulson walked to his home office, sat at his chair, and unlocked the top drawer. He beckoned Grant to come closer and pulled him onto his lap. After opening the drawer he got out his badge and showed it to the boy.

"This is what a sheepdog looks like."

Grant held the badge and looked at the ID card. His finger traced the writing as he read, "Phil Coulson, Field Officer." After noticing the acronym at the top of the card, he looked at Coulson, "What's SHIELD?"

"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. We're are a counterterrorism and intelligence agency."

"We?"

"Yes, we. Me, your mom, and many other agents. We fight every day to keep the world safe. All of us are sheepdogs."

"What do you do then to be one?"

"I protect people and try not to hurt others in the process. That's what being a sheepdog is about."

"That's what I want to do too."

Coulson ruffled his hair, "It's still too early for you to decide anything for your life. And now it's not the time to think about it. It's too late for you to be awake. Come on, I'll tuck you to bed."

Grant nodded and the two began walking to the bedroom that the boy shared with Leo. The youngest one was awake, sitting in his bed, solving a Rubik's cube but not exactly paying attention to it. He was lost in his thoughts. Leo didn't have many memories of the time he had spent at the orphanage. That was mainly because he was always bouncing from a family's house back to the orphanage. He barely grasped a sense of home anywhere. He couldn't remember much of the time before the orphanages. He couldn't remember his mother's face that much, but he remembered his dad. He remembered the lab where he had spent most of his time with the scientists, but mostly he remembered his papa always walking around the building with him, making him laugh, always handling him with care and affection.

The scientists in the HYDRA lab flinched as they saw that man walking in. Leo knew him as Devin, his Papa, but the scientists knew him as Sunil Bakshi, Mr. Whitehall's right-hand man.

"Papa," Leo cheered, climbing down the chair he was sitting on, ready to make a run for the man.

"Not now, Leo." Bakshi said, not paying attention to the boy, at least not for now. Leo saddened and returned to his seat. His father clasped his hands behind his back and walked around, taking peeks at the works laid out over the tables, "Is the device ready?"

"Uh, Mr. Bakshi," one of the scientists struggled, following him, "the thing is -"

He stopped suddenly, "I don't care what the thing is. Mr. Whitehall doesn't appreciate delays. You've got," he checked his wristwatch, "one hour to complete the device. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

Bakshi left the lab again and the captive scientists let out relieved sighs. No one had died that day – at least, not yet; usually one or two people would be escorted out and never seen again. Two engineers commented on how no adult man could link the wires of the device to get it to work. Those wires were deep in the circuit and only tiny hands could reach them. Only Leo's hands were tiny enough for the task. They were well aware that one inch to the side and the device would blow up the entire lab, but they could all go to the adjacent room protected by a thick concrete wall and survive the blast. It was a risk worth taking because they didn't really have a choice: either all of them would be executed or Leo would take the chance in trying to assemble the device.

"Leo, come here."

"Yes, Mr. Wyatt?" Leo answered, running to the man, a smile framing his face.

Wyatt swallowed hard, thinking that they were going to put the innocent Leo through something that could kill him, but they had to do it. Not to mention that many believed that if Leo died that would affect Bakshi, so it wouldn't be such a loss. They'd settle for anything if they could torture at least one of the men that was responsible for holding them captive there.

"Let's play a game," Wyatt said, picking the boy up in his arms. He walked to a table and sat the boy on a chair, "See those yellow wires down there?"

Leo leaned over the circuit board and nodded, "Yeah, what about 'em?"

"We need you to put them together. Those two little tips, they connect, can you see?" The toddler took a closer look and nodded again, "But that's one thing. You know what happens when you play Operation and when the tweezers touch the edge Sam's nose lights up red and you lose? Well, here's the same. You can't touch anything else or else this buzzes and goes kaboom. Think you can connect the wires without making a kaboom?"

Leo grinned, "Yes."

Wyatt ruffled his hair and whispered before leaving, "I'm really sorry, kiddo."

The scientists moved to the adjacent room, leaving Leo inside the empty lab. The boy bit the tip of his tongue, his concentration reaching its peak, focusing on the small circuit board before him. The scientists were safe out of the lab, protected by a thick concrete wall, watching Leo through a thick layer of glass. But they were terrified at the thought of seeing a little boy dismembered into bits right before their eyes.

"Oh Dios mío, no puedo ni siquiera ver esto. Si él falla por un milímetro que sea, nosotros vamos a morir -"

"Bite your tongue, Pepe," One of the scientists said sternly and then shifted his gaze to the glass, looking at the boy, "Leo can do it."

It took him long minutes of concentration before Leo lifted his head and happily chirped, "I did it!"

"Get everything else and assemble the weapon," Wyatt told his fellow companions as they entered the lab, "Mr. Bakshi will be here in 50 minutes."

Bakshi entered the lab that second. Everyone froze and looked at him, "I need an engineer to prep the asset."

The room was dead silent until one of them raised his hand, "I – I'll go."

"Be careful," the Spanish captive warned, "he has a robotic arm and is always very erratic after they pull him out of cryo."

"For today, Mr. Mathieu," Bakshi said by the door, "the asset's mission is in thirty minutes and time is precious. And ticking."

"Yes, of course, Sir. On my way."

Bakshi stopped before leaving and turned around, "Want to come with me, Leo?"

Leo smiled and ran to his father. He swung him off his feet and carried him in arms. Very excitedly Leo told his dad, "I did it."

"You did what?" he tickled the boy's side, "You caused any mischief?"

The toddler giggled, "No."

"Are you sure?" Bakshi lightly bopped the boy's nose with his index, "Because you're a real mixer."

"I put the wires together. Mr. Wyatt saided it was like playing Operation, that I had to put the wires together without making a kaboom. I did it and then they maded what you wanted."

"He did what?" Bakshi stopped abruptly, his gleeful attitude disappearing. He put his son down on his feet and ordered, "Stay put, Leo, hear me? Stay right here, don't even move. I'll be right back."

Bakshi walked to the lab in quick strides, pulled out his gun and looked for Wyatt. Once he found him, he aimed the gun to his head, took the shot and then warned the others as the man's body fell to the ground, "Let him be an example. Do not ask Leo to do experiments again."

The HYDRA man fit his gun back into the shoulder holster and returned back to his son. He picked him up again and walked to his office.

As soon as Leo sensed someone approaching his bedroom, he lay down in bed and pulled the covers over his head and pretended to be asleep. Still, he couldn't hush his thoughts despite knowing that his dad was putting Grant to bed. One of the (dis)advantages of being so smart was the capability to focus on several tasks at the same time, so while he thought, he was also listening to Dad telling Grant that he and Mom were SHIELD agents and that it was all supposed to be a secret. Apparently only Trip knew about it.

Whitehall was sitting on a chair with a scotch glass in his right hand, staring at Bakshi's empty chair on the other side of the desk.

"Here, got you this," Bakshi said as he put Leo down at his feet. He pulled out of his jacket's pocket a small-scaled Rubik's cube that he gave to the boy, "Each face of the cube has to have only one color. Try to do it."

Leo climbed up to his father's office chair and swung his legs, entertaining himself with the cube. Bakshi walked in at a slower pace - he didn't really appreciate that his boss was in the same room as his son.

"You're sitting at the wrong side of the desk, Sir," Bakshi said.

Whitehall looked back, "I'm a visitor and this is the base I assigned you to. I'm sitting on the right side."

"The asset is being prepped for the mission," the other commented, taking a seat at his chair and sitting Leo at his lap, "and the weapon based on the Tesseract's energy is finally ready."

"That is good news," Whitehall got up, "The asset better be well instructed not to leave loose ends; it's time that Howard Stark is out of the way. He causes too much trouble."

"Papa, look!" Leo excitedly chirped, showing his father one of the faces of the cube completely covered with the color red.

Bakshi's lips curved into a small but genuine smile, "That's really impressive, Leo."

"He's smart," Whitehall commented, casting a glance at Leo who was still entertained by rotating the cube's layers, "He'd look good sitting in that chair in a few years."

"I don't want him following this lifestyle."

"Mr. Bakshi, you're doing a remarkable job here, but you're getting a soft spot. That's bad. You know what you had to do to Maeve. I'd really hate to have to hire someone to…" the man pondered on his words for a moment, "take him to meet his mother. Wouldn't you hate it as well?"

"This won't be a problem, Sir."

"It better not be," Whitehall gulped down the scotch in a single sip and gave Bakshi the empty cup, "Keep me updated."

"I will, Sir."

Bakshi swallowed hard after Whitehall left his office. Perhaps it was time to anonymously tip SHIELD about the location of the lab. He'd leave Leo behind for them to take away and protect. He had already had to shoot Maeve under a crazy hypnosis Whitehall put him through all because he wanted his smart son under HYDRA's wing. Now Bakshi wouldn't allow him to hurt Leo too.

With his eyes focused on the outside, the man smiled, "Look, Leo," he pointed as he walked to the window, "there's a ship on the river."

"I wanna see," Leo left the cube over the desk and snaked his arms around his dad's legs.

His father picked him up so that he could look out the window, "Look over there."

"I know you're awake," Grant said after Coulson left the bedroom.

Leo kicked the bed sheet back and sat up in bed again, resuming to solve the Rubik's cube with fast dexterity, "Dad is SHIELD?"

"Yes. But it's a secret so you can't tell anyone."

"I heard that too," the genius pointed out.

"Well, go to sleep now then," Grant said, lying down in his bed.

"HYDRA's bad, SHIELD's good," Leo mumbled under his breath, "Papa's bad, Dad's good."

"Leo, repeat what I've told you," Bakshi ordered, walking in a fast pace with Leo in his arms, wanting to leave him in the lab as quick as possible.

"HYDRA's bad, SHIELD's good."

"Repeat it again and again."

The boy did so until he asked, "Papa, are you SHIELD?"

"No, Leo. I'm a HYDRA scumbag and this is why I have to do this," he stopped by the lab's door, put Leo down on his feet and stooped down until he was at his eye level, "You're gonna be alright, ok? Now go in the lab and always remember what I told you."

"HYDRA's bad, SHIELD's good," Leo finished solving the cube, dropped it on the floor and laid down, whispering into his pillow, "Papa's bad, Dad's good."

"Oh Dios mío, no puedo ni siquiera ver esto. Si él falla por un milímetro que sea, nosotros vamos a morir -" means "Oh my goodness, I can't even watch this. If he misses by a millimeter, we're going to die -"

When Bakshi said that Leo was 'a real mixer' that's British slang for being a troublemaker. Also, still regarding his character, I wanted to make him a neutral evil in this story. I stand with Bobbi's assumptions when she interrogated Bakshi ("The Things We Bury" – 2x08) and believed that he strives not to disappoint his superiors. I chose to make him having pressure points, Maeve and Leo, his son more particularly.

Now, just to give you some understanding about this chapter's title and how it relates with the characters: Coulson is a sheepdog, Bakshi is a sheep wearing a wolf's skin, Leo is a sheep and Grant is a sheep under a sheepdog's fur, Brody (Grant's father) and Whitehall are the wolves.

And on a finale note, I think you all picked up that May isn't exactly sick…

Next chapter is focused on Lance. I put together one of my ideas with a suggestion made by starfire25. There will be some more back story on him, and also some revelations that no one knew about Lance.