Author's Note: I should be doing homework. Am I? Nope. I'm writing emotional trauma to my favorite character, because that helps me relieve stress.
Anyway, part of this I really, really like - I wrote several meetings between Grant and Angela, trying to figure out which one played best into my picture of how they work together. The show did such an awful job of introducing Thomas (whose whole character set up in season 1 and 2 was completely dismissed), that I'm slightly nervous as to how I'm writing Angela. I don't want her to be a Mary Sue. I hope she's not coming off that way. But I am very attached to her here, because she is my ONLY original character in any fic I've written. Sooo...if you would be so kind as to tell me if you're still enjoying her character?
Angela paused outside the glass walls of the medical observation room, frowning. "You know, I assumed when you said you were treating him, you meant you were treating him well. He looked better when mom had him."
And she wasn't exaggerating either. She and her siblings had to make routine public appearances, given their family's political status, and her mother and father made sure to never leave a mark that a camera could pick up. If any of the children, namely Christian, were caught leaving bruises on the others, they learned a lesson not soon forgotten. She owed her immaculate posture to her mother's lessons – it was difficult to slouch with burns across your shoulders. Christian simply learned a different method of beating on his other brothers that kept himself out of his mother's educational lectures.
Now, on the other hand, Grant looked like he was about to shake hands with death. The room was dark, but she could still see the pale translucence of his skin, the dark circles under sunken eyes and the rough protrusion of bone under too tight skin. If the monitors were accurate, her brother really had turned into Hellfire, because his temperature was over 108. After 107, heatstroke became irreversible and death was inevitable. He didn't look like he was sleeping very well either – he constantly moved under the blankets, repeatedly kicking off blankets that he almost immediately burrowed back under.
He had new scars.
"My apologies, but your brother isn't what I would call a typical patient. Our biologists are currently working on analyzing blood samples to see exactly what's changed since last we saw him...before he became...Hellfire, or whatever you want to call his condition," Coulson said, offering a half shrug of apology.
"What brought it on?" Angela asked. "Mom tried for years and got nothing."
"I'm not the one to ask. Assistant Director Gonzalez is apparently something of an aficionado when it comes to your family history, and knows more about your mother's work. He found Zola's notes on your brother in the aftermath of the lab take down, but only acted on the information recently."
Roughly translated, Angela assumed that meant that Coulson didn't have a clue what the hell their mother was playing at with her experiments, or what Zola found that she could not. The Hellfire project did exist when they were children, and that was always Adaline's endgame for her second son. But something in Grant...not his DNA or genetic makeup, or anything quantifiable, made it impossible. It worked on her other experiments, except they hadn't been prepped in the womb like her children to withstand such a drastic change in physiology or biology. But never on her brother.
Angela just assumed that his superpower had been the ability to say fuck you to their mom on a cellular level.
Zola, on the other hand, didn't have Adaline's need to keep her subjects alive. He probably preferred it, but it wasn't a primary concern.
It did, however, beg the question of whether or not they realized he had a much more latent ability – one shared by all the Ward children to ensure that Adaline didn't have to worry about safety protocols. But by the looks of things, Grant had either lost it, or was too sick to combat it.
Without asking for permission, Angela opened the door and let herself in, startling the man who was sitting in the chair at her brother's feet, flipping through files.
"Earl Grey," she said, indicating him with a nod.
"The name is Hunter, if it matters," Earl Grey said, looking questioningly from her to Coulson. When he caught sight of the bruised and bloody face of his boss, his mouth dropped open. "Did she do that?"
Coulson grimaced, catching his reflection in the glass. "Uh, no. No, she did not."
When he didn't explain any further, Hunter raised an eyebrow. "That have anything to do with the alarm earlier that everyone ran off to?"
Coulson nodded, and Angela didn't say anything. She was curious if Coulson was going to explain about the feisty Scottie beating the hell out of him. She made a mental note to grab the security footage before she left the building. She could watch that for days and not tire of it.
Hunter glanced behind the two of them, then twisted in his seat, craning his neck to look down the visible part of the hallway. "Where's Fitz? Didn't he go with you?"
Coulson looked at Angela, who remained silent and impassive, waiting to see what he said. She suspected he wanted to see if she was going to answer, or prompt him a line.
Coulson cleared his throat. "I'll explain later."
Hunter rocked forward on his chair legs, hitting the front legs on the ground. "What happened? Is he okay?"
"He's fine. I'll explain after."
Angela fought the urge to roll her eyes. And people said she had loose morals.
"What's she doing in here?" Hunter asked, nodding towards Angela who cautiously moved closer to her brother's bed. "I thought she was a prisoner."
"Try telling her that," Coulson said grimly. "She offered to help with Ward."
"There's two of us now, you might want to reference us with first names," Angela suggested. She reached out to her brother's forehead, palm hovering over his super-heated skin. She felt like she was checking the temperature of an oven.
"His temperature has been on the rise ever since we got back," Hunter explained, keeping a wary eye on her. "They switched over to cool saline and cooling blankets, but it doesn't seem to do much."
"They're trying to fight it like it's an infection?" Angela said, raising a brow. "Really?"
Hunter frowned. "Any suggestions then? We'd love to hear them, because we have no idea what's going on."
Angela huffed, turning back to her brother. In this close proximity, she could see the damage done since last time she'd seen him. The thin line of scar tissue that ran through his hair, the thick ropey red lines down his wrists from older self-inflicted injuries. One hospital scrub pant leg was hiked up almost to his knee from his constant movement, and the angry red W shaped scar that cut through his shin stood out in stark comparison to pale skin – along with the tiny pinprick of scar tissue placed around the wound.
How could Coulson wonder why she wanted Zola in exchange for her help?
"You've dealt with Inhumans, correct?" she asked.
When both Coulson and Hunter nodded, she continued on.
"They have their weird rock incubation period to adjust to something alien. This is just a different version. He's adjusting to the Hellfire…formula? DNA? Whatever the hell Adaline wanted to call it. He's gone from normal human being to not normal human being. There's a period of adjustment." Angela glared imperiously down her nose. "I'm assuming Miss Earth Mover had a couple days to figure out how to alter kinetic energy without shaking herself apart."
Coulson and Hunter shared a look, and Angela could see she was right in her assumption. She'd had several run ins with Dr. Zabo, or Johnson, or whatever he was calling himself these days. The man was seven shades of crazy, but she could overlook that in favor of his genius when it came to genetics. All she had to do was listen to his vindictive ramblings about his family being ruined by HYDRA and she could glean all the information she wanted.
She wanted to know about the sudden flare ups of people with bizarre super powers (melting things? Really? How incredibly unhelpful), and to make sure it wasn't her mother's research cropping up again. Nope. Not her mother's research. Just a latent alien DNA.
Ain't no thing like me, 'cept me. She should have that put on a t-shirt.
"You seem to know an awful lot about Inhumans for them being such a new thing," Coulson said pointedly. "Any particular reason for the interest?"
Angela fought hard to not roll her eyes. She was a telepath that could control people with a word and a thought, and the Director of her biggest competitor in the business wondered why her interest in people who could conduct enough electricity to power a small city, teleport anywhere in the world, or hell, fly.
She glanced down at her brother. "Seriously, little brother? This is the team you went to bat for? You and I need to discuss your tactical choices."
She could see Coulson grit his teeth and clench his jaw against her sarcasm. Who needed mind control powers when people were just so damn easy to set off?
"I may or may not have run into Zabo-Johnson on occasion. He's a talkative man, for a raging lunatic. Made me feel at home."
"You met Skye's father?"
And suspicion confirmed. She thought Skye looked familiar, but she couldn't be sure. Intelligence agency, her foot. Didn't they employ the Black Widow? Did she teach them nothing?
"A time or two. No worries. We're not friends. I'm more concerned about the problem at hand, if you don't mind. Let's not dwell on the how of what I know, just that I know."
"Fine. Where would you like to start?" Coulson asked, clearly irritated with his choice to actually bring her to her brother. She gave him credit though – he knew it wasn't a choice so much as a lack of options.
Angela glanced down at her fitfully sleeping brother. He hadn't woken from his fever dreams, despite their conversation. Not that they'd been talking particularly loudly, but it spoke volumes to her about his mental health. No one slept well in their house – not when a creak of a floorboard, the squeak of a door hinge could be the approach of a suddenly inspired Adaline Ward.
"Leave us," she commanded, and watched as they filed out the door. She closed and locked it behind them, and lowered the shades. Then she climbed up on the vacated chair Hunter had been sitting in, and ripped out the back of the security camera in the corner of the room.
The room was almost entirely dark now, considering it'd already been dim when they'd first arrived. Without the ambient light from the hallway through the glass, all she had now was the light from the monitors.
She couldn't have any witnesses.
Making sure to avoid the lines snaking in and around the covers, she crawled into the bed next to him, pressed so closely her knees and elbows touched his, and she could feel the radiant heat coming from him, even as he stopped his constant motion.
Just as she knew he would, he reached out for her, and she carefully caught his hand in both of hers, kissing it gently.
Just like when they were children, and she snuck into his bed after he'd done another round with Adaline.
"Come on, little brother, I traveled across the world this time to come and see you," she whispered. "Least you can do is open your eyes."
Grant cracked one eye open, and she braced for one of two reactions.
Instead, he smiled tiredly, and let his eye close again. "Hey, Angie."
"Hey, Grant," she said. "Long time no see."
This time he smirked, and opened both eyes. "Must mean I'm dying."
"You're certainly giving it your best shot, brother."
"At least you came to visit this time," Grant said. "I take it they sent you their usual invite?"
Angela nodded.
Grant's eyes drifted shut again. "I did try to tell them it was a bad idea."
Angela chuckled. "Maybe once they get a chance to see the Wonder Twins in action, they'll pay closer attention next time."
Grant didn't say anything, merely hummed non-committedly.
She missed her brother. Not that she would ever admit it, but she actually liked him. Despite the atrocities she committed, he was almost always the first one to come to her aide. Even if it put him directly in the line of fire.
"Look and what trying to be the hero has gotten you, brother," Angela said, softly tracing the lines of scarring across his skin. "All your frayed and patchwork glory, and look at what has been done…"
"Tried the bad guy routine too," Grant protested. "It went worse."
She chuckled. "There's a thing called shades of gray, you know."
This time he actually smirked, and his chapped lips cracked. "That's what I was doing…and this is where I wound up."
Angela tsked, lightly tapping her forehead against his in admonishment. "Good thing I showed up to show you the ropes, huh?"
Grant opened his eyes again, this time his eyes darkening with distrust. "Why are you here, Angie?"
She looked away as well she could considering how close they were. Her brother had always been better than a lie detector where she was concerned. "I didn't come for you. I didn't even know you were here. I'm staying because of you."
"I don't need you," he protested. It didn't come off as a childish whine she was hoping for. It sounded like a statement of fact – like saying the sky was blue, the grass was green or the sun was warm.
Angela tended to be brutally honest. She could afford to be. If people didn't like she said, it didn't matter – they were compelled to do it anyway. But she couldn't afford her brother's hate. Not now. But Grant's emotions always got the better of him, and even when he tried to shut them off like she could, he wasn't predictable, which made him more dangerous than she was.
But now was not the time for safe bets.
"What do you think they're going to do with you, Grant? If you can't control your power, they won't need you. Your options are bug under a microscope, dead, or another drone."
Angela had two reasons for holding onto her brother's hands. One, because she knew he took comfort in physical affection, and two, because with her long fingers, she could feel his pulse and his temperature as they fluctuated up and down.
Right now, his temperature was steadily creeping upwards, but he wasn't reacting like he was getting sicker.
Because he was getting angrier. Test number one: success. And she didn't wind up a charcoal briquette- double bonus.
"No one knows how we work, Grant. And we were always stronger together. I owe you a debt – give me this chance to pay it off."
"And how do you plan on doing that, sister?" Grant growled.
"Because we know how scientists solve problems. And either they're going to solve them using you, or they're going to solve them by using me," Angela said bluntly.
Grant's reaction was visceral. That anger that he'd just had was gone in the blink of an eye. Dark eyes widened in fear as he pulled back from her but was stopped by the rail of the bed. She could feel his pulse rocket up even before the monitors caught it, and his temperature plummeted.
"We know the drill, Grant. It's not going to change. I owe you. Let me do this one thing. I promise I won't let them repeat history," she said. "I'm not a little kid anymore. They're not going to scare me. There's no more monsters under the bed worse than me."
"Why?" Grant whispered. "Angela, it wasn't any better for you."
Angela sighed. Her brother was a shoe in for martyrdom. "Because of what you did to mom. Because of what you did to Christian. Because you killed my monsters. Let me fight yours."
Okay, okay...so she's not a TOTAL bad guy. She just has to process things differently. Right? Or is she totally setting up Ward to screw him over later?
How did the reunion pan out compared to what you imagined? Do you like it? Do you think there should be more of a violent/unhappy reaction?
Drop me a line! I LOVE your reviews, and the ones who ramble hold a special place in my heart (juuust saying)