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WRATH
Grant doesn’t flinch as the cold metal locks around his wrists. The band is a more than an inch wide and is uncomfortably tight. But there’s nothing connecting the bands on either wrist, so it’s a step up from the handcuffs he’s been forced to wear until now.
“50.000 volts directly into the muscle.” Coulson says calmly as he steps back. “It will bring you to your knees in the worst way possible.”
May glowers from the doorway of his cell. “Satellite tracking to within half a feet.” She adds. “And an anti-tampering kill switch.” She regards him coolly. “Literally.”
Grant nods. “Understood.”
Coulson crosses him arms. “This is provisionally.” He says. “You are going to help us take down Hydra. If you’re useful it might shave some time off your sentence.”
Grant scoffs. “It’s nice of you to pretend like I’d get a trial.” He says, as he carefully twists his wrists, testing his new range of motion. “Where am I going?”
May jerks her head. “This way.” Grant steps passed Coulson and follows May down the hall. Two guards fall into step behind him.
It’s been a month. A month since Gareth was killed. A month since he was taken prisoner by the remains of Shield. A month of being locked in a cell, while his former team tried to figure out what to do with him. Now they’re giving him a small chance. He doesn’t know what’s gone so horribly wrong that they’re taking this risk, but he’ll take it.
Nine hours later he’s escorted back to his cell and he’s exhausted. Data analysis has never been his strong suit and they have terabytes of it. There’s a tray waiting for him and he picks it up with a sigh. Grey, tasteless mush is the meal of the day it seems. Again.
The door to his cell opens and he’s glances up from his dinner. Jemma slips into his cell and the door slides shut behind her with a soft hiss. Grant straightens in surprise.
He hasn’t seen her since his capture.
He hasn’t seen anyone except the agent that brings him his meals three times a day and the agent that interrogates him. It’s never May or Coulson, though he knows they’re watching the proceedings. He caught a glimpse of Skye once, angry and defiant as he was made to return to his cell. But not Jemma. And this is not the Jemma he remembers.
Jemma was always full of energy. Not in the bouncy, uncontrolled way that Fitz was, but in an intensely focused way. She was always observing, thinking, always quick with a smile. She’s not smiling now though. Her face is damn near expressionless, but her eyes are hard. She looks like someone who has seen war. He supposes she has.
“Hello Ward.” She says.
He automatically glances at the camera mounted up in the corner and notes that for the first time in a month the red light is off.
Jemma follows his gaze. “I thought it best this conversation be held without curious ears listening in.” She tells him as she steps closer.
Grant sets his tray aside and crosses his arms. “How’s Fitz?” He asks, because he’s a masochist. And because he needs to see some emotion from her. He expects her to flinch, but she smiles in a way that makes his skin crawl.
“Alive, awake, weak.” She tells him. “Attempting to recover from your attempt at murdering us.”
Grant narrows his eyes. She’s standing just outside of his range. He could lunge for her, but Coulson didn’t tell him how the cuffs around his wrists are activated and he has no doubt that Jemma has the activation switch somewhere on her person.
“What are you doing here, Simmons?” He asks, leaning back nonchalantly.
“I felt it best that I explained the current situation to you.” Jemma answers coolly. “Lest you think this newly given leniency was a stepping stone to returning to the team.”
Ward raises an eyebrow. “Have I been kicked out of the club?” he mocks. “Are you here to tell me that we will never be friends again?”
Jemma chuckles softly. “Oh, Ward.” She says quietly. “You really have no idea what you’ve done.” She pins him with a glare. “You think you have them fooled. That you’re on your way back into their good graces. Halfway back to being the lying, duplicitous traitor that you were revealed to be.”
Grant gives an exaggerated wince to cover the sting her words have inflicted. “Ouch.” He says. “Don’t hold back, Simmons.”
“You’ve made them pity you.” Jemma continues angrily. “Told them your sob story. Made them think you’re a victim. Convinced them there is hope for redemption.” She scoffs. “You’re very good Ward. But you haven’t fooled me. I know what you are. What you will always be.”
Jemma tilts her head. “You think I don’t know the stories? That I don’t know Hydra’s sale pitch?” She rolls her eyes. “I’ve heard it, Ward. All my life.”
She steps forward and smiles coldly at him. “I’m a legacy, Ward. Hydra, third generation.”
Grant freezes. She’s within kicking range and he can’t move. Can only stare up at her as his mouth dries up. There’s no way.
Jemma nods at his stunned expression. “My family made questionable choices in the past and they expected me to join them. To uphold their misguided beliefs.” She shakes her head as she steps back. “Elitist bigots.” She muttered.
“I swore I never would. All my life they’ve tried to feed me their philosophies, their prejudice and their entitlement. And I never bought into it.” She glared at him. “They were kind to me. They loved me and I loved them, but I didn’t agree with them.” She told him. “And I prayed to God that I would never be called. That it would end with me. But it didn’t.”
Her hands ball into fists at her side. “Shield fell and I had to make a choice and I chose this team.” She says, and for the first time there is emotion on her face. “Not my family, not the safety of an organization that would welcome me as paragon. I chose this team. And you chose to betray us.”
Ward shakes his head. “No.” He says quickly, because this is rapidly becoming a scenario he had not prepared for. “It wasn’t like that.” He tells her.
Jemma narrows her eyes. “Really?” she says. “Does this sound familiar: You had nothing and no one and Gareth offered you something. Gave you a purpose and the chance to be part of something. What’s one nameless, faceless organization or another?” She tosses her head. “But in the end, it wasn’t faceless anymore Grant. It was Coulson. It was us, this team. We could’ve been your family.” She breathes deeply for a moment. “We were your family.” She says. “It was real for us. We counted on you.”
Grant tries to protest, but she ignores him.
“And it wasn’t nameless.” She continues over him. “Victoria Hand, Koenig. How many others did you kill? The blood of how many agents drips from your fingers? People that trusted you.”
She points an angry finger at him. “Don’t tell me you had no choice, that they would’ve killed you because I know better.” She says and his mouth falls shut. “You had a choice. We both did. I faced down Hydra soldiers with guns and itchy trigger fingers, and all I had to do was reveal my heritage and I would’ve been welcomed into the fold. I would’ve been a valuable member, one of the elite. Shield had fallen, I was alone with someone I didn’t know I could trust. It would’ve been easy. But I said no. I fought.”
She gives him a withering look. “You had Gareth in handcuffs and Coulson and May at your back and still you betrayed us. And for what.”
“You are nothing.” Jemma tells him viciously. “A foot soldier. A pawn. Hydra thrives on knowledge and manipulation. They tried brute force before and it didn’t work. They don’t want people like you except as cannon fodder.”
She waves her hand dismissively. “Grunts doing the heavy lifting.” she parrots mockingly.
“They want people like me. Scientist and thinkers and visionaries. The promises they fed you were lies. You’re dispensable, easily replaced. They’re not coming for you. And even if you make it back, you won’t matter to them. You’re just another pair of hands that can carry a weapon.”
Ward clenches his jaw. The words shouldn’t sting, but they do. He’s thought them himself more than once in his month long stay, but to hear them from Jemma… sweet, innocent, joyfully enthusiastic Jemma. It’s somehow worse. Especially because she’s no longer any of those things. She’s cold and hardened and rage. The thought hits him unbidden that he’s part of what made her that way.
Jemma clasps her hands in front her calmly. “So I want it to be very clear Ward. I want you to understand.” She informs him coldly, “That when you inevitably betray us, it won’t be May that kills you. It’s not Coulson you’ll have to worry about, or Tripp or even Skye. It’s me. I will be the one to end you.” A grim smile flits briefly across her face. “They may not have intended to, but my parents taught me well.”
Grant swallows and narrows his eyes. “Have you ever killed anyone Simmons.” He asks as he gets to his feet. “Watched the life drain out of their eyes? Do you really think you have the stomach for it?” He sincerely hopes not. He hopes that his actions haven’t corrupted this amazing woman into someone like him.
Simmons regards him coolly. “I was raised Hydra.” She tells him. “I chose something else and you tried to destroy that. You tried to kill me and worse, people I care about.” She steps forward and if the steel bed wasn’t at his knees he would’ve moved away at the look in her eyes. “I will kill you slowly, painfully and without remorse.” She tells him as she lifts her chin to stare him directly in the eyes. “Just give me a reason.”
Grant believes her. She must see that in his eyes because that same grim smile settles on her face again. “So then we understand each other.” She tells him.
She turns around and steps away from him just as the doors slide open. May and Tripp stand there, weapons raised, with Coulson and several guards right behind them.
He can’t see Jemma’s expression, but he sees the way Coulson’s eyes widen. Jemma calmly steps forward and they part to let her pass. “I’m done.” She tells them.
May watches Jemma leave and then turns to face him. He holds her gaze for a moment and then slowly lowers himself back down onto his bed.
Tripp still has his gun out. “What did you do?” he bites out angrily.
Grant shakes his head. “Apparently the unforgivable.” He says. “You might want to keep an eye on that one.”
Tripp glowers at him, but May’s hand flicks out and then the doors are sliding closed again. He watches the camera and after a few moments the red light turns back on. Grant leans back with a sigh.
Well shit.
Outside, Coulson catches up to Jemma at the elevators. “What was that?” he demands angrily.
“I needed to talk to Ward.” Jemma answers calmly.
“Without informing us?” Coulson says. “And you turned off the camera’s!”
Jemma turns to face him. “I told you he can’t be trusted.” She reminds him. “You’re insisting on using him. On giving him this chance and it’s a mistake.”
“That is not your decision.” Coulson tells her as May quietly steps up beside him. “He’s no use to us in that cell.”
“You’re being naïve, sir.” Jemma bites out. “You think you can save him. But it’s not redemption if there’s no other choice. Then it’s just survival. And at the first opportunity he will betray us again.”
May sweeps a hand out. “What did you say to him?” She asks.
Jemma shrugs. “I told him that when he does inevitably betray us, I will kill him.”
Coulson stares at her. “Jemma,” he says quietly. “You don’t mean that. You can’t believe that.”
The elevator doors slide open behind her and Jemma turns around and steps inside. “He does.” She says as she pushes the button. “That’s what matters.”
The doors slide shut and Coulson stands there for a moment in stunned horror. “What is happening?” he asks quietly. “When did that happen to Simmons?”
May sighs. “I don’t know.” She admits.
Coulson runs a hand over his face. “Do you think she’s capable?” he asks.
“Yes.” May says, without hesitating. “Do you think Ward can change?”
“Yes.” Coulson says. He grimaces. “I hope.”
May nods. “One of us is going to end up being right.” She points out. “Question is, whose soul do you want to save? Hers or his?”
“Both?” Coulson says.
“And if you have to choose?” May asks.
Coulson stares at the closed doors of the elevator. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” He says quietly.
“Phil.” May says softly and he turns to look at her. “You’re being naïve.”
The End.