Chapter 15: Nothing Personal

So this chapter took too long, I admit, but school is school. Anyway, we are nearing the end of this book, so I'm beginning to plan the next book on my list, just a heads up for any 'Time and Earth' readers, 

Enjoy! 

LittlePond

PS I thought I published this weeks ago, but I didn't soooo oops?

Chapter 15: Nothing Personal

"Play it again," Coulson demanded as we all stared at the camera feed displaying the words, 'no signal.'

To me, it all pointed to 1 answer- someone managed to take May, Skye, Ward and Koenig without a sign of their presence. Like my situation with HYDRA, it was mind boggling.

Fitz grumbled, "It's the same every time, sir." Coulson remained stern and Fitz explained again that the internal camera feeds were erased, but the hangar's landing assist is separate since it tracks movement. "After we left, everything's normal until- this."

The image of May walking down the cargo ramp alone appeared. Beside me on the brown sofa, Simmons added, "An entry log has May leaving the base a few minutes later through the front door. Only her."

My SO had abandoned me, as stupid as that sounded.

It seemed these days, the only parental figure that hadn't done so was Coulson, and even then he'd basically told May to get lost the last few days. I wondered what Whitehall would think of me thinking that, but anyone would know it couldn't be good.

With my thoughts wandering to allegiances, I wondered when I'd get to read my files.

The next piece of activity was Skye and Ward entering the Bus, but that wasn't the worst part. "Holding hands," Coulson muttered. Ward was lucky that Skye didn't know about his loyalties, otherwise she's smite him down where he stood. "Soon after the plane takes off. That's all we got."

Poor, poor Skye. She was stuck on a plane with a HYDRA agent.

Before I knew what he was, perhaps I'd be happy for her, I'd noticed the charged air between them, but I couldn't trust much from HYDRA these days; for all I knew it could be another mirage part of another master plan.

"Koenig must've gone onto the plane somehow," Simmons sighed. Koenig was nowhere to be found on the base, not so much as a footprint. It was as though he'd vanished.

Coulson walked towards the screens, "There's no other way in or out." From the counter, Trip added, "The blast and hangar door are the only exits." But both were undamaged, so nobody attacked, and nobody ran away. So why?

"Maybe Koenig got orders."

"From who? Is there anyone to give orders, aren't we just improvising at this point?"

Fitz did have a point; without Fury, or any leader, there was nobody to give orders. Nobody except Coulson.

"Still doesn't explain why the communication lines were cut. Or why they left their phones or why May left." Whatever meagre friendship I gained with my SO turned out to mean nothing. It turned out when I needed her the most, she walked away. Not that I blamed her; Coulson had been a bully the last few days.

"We don't need her sorry ass," Trip grumbled.

"Excuse me?" Coulson and I asked simultaneously.

Believe it or not, Coulson and I speaking simultaneously was occurring often; it was as if the HYDRA Uprising synchronised us.

But Trip had a point. With all the team had gone through; from Centipede to TAHITI, you'd think May wouldn't bail. Not when the going was getting rough.

Sighing, Simmons stood up, the couch raising from her removal, "I'll go make some food." Trip stood from his stool with calm swagger, offering to help. As if controlled, Fitz shot up stating, "No I'll get it," with such protectiveness I double checked it was him who'd spoke.

With the room rid of the scientists, Coulson turned to me. A habit he had gotten into since Audrey; calling on me like a teacher in a classroom. "You're awfully quiet, you alright?"

I scoffed to mask the caramel warmth that spread, "We're left in the deep and lovely dark, and you're asking about my wellbeing?" He smiled, opened his mouth but closed it, deeming silence better.

After minutes Trip asked, "Sir, you're an analysis expert; I can see you running scenarios in your head, so what you got?" Coulson remained still, leaning forward on elbows braced on his thighs, "Best case; Agent Koenig knows something we don't."

"And worst case scenario?"

"We've had a wolf in the herd the whole time."

In the distance, Simmons screamed.

Agent Koenig was dead.

Ward officially came out of the closet as a HYDRA operative as Fitz found a window which had been scrawled; 'Ward is HYDRA.'

After I helped the agents take Keonig's body from the store room's rafters, we placed the corpse on the bench, encircling him like flowers on a shroud.

Fitz paced the room, muttering incoherently about his disbelief. Out of all of us, he'd been hit hardest.

Looking down on the body Trip sighed, "Take a breath, Agent Fitz." He looked at Trip with an incredulous look, one of absolute anger. It was the look of a man who'd been betrayed for the first time. A look I never wanted Fitz to wear.

"Don't tell me to take a breath. I don't even know who you are," Fitz answered, taking a step toward him. Trip lent out a hand on his shoulder, "I just went through this remember?" Fitz wiped it off like one would dirt, spitting, "Don't touch me."

The anger from Fitz worried me. It had given me insight into what he would be like should he discover my allegiances, and it made my heart feel bloated.

Should I ever leave, I'd make my presence fade, so none would ever know. I didn't want to put them through this.

Trip replied, "My SO turned out to be a lying son of a-" "Well not Ward! You know why? Because he's our friend!" Fitz turned to Simmons, "And Simmons will find something, tell him Jemma." With his outburst, I hadn't been able to focus on examining the body before me, but Simmons' stern "Let me work," reminded me.

"Yeah but tell him Ward is-" "Let me work."

"Something else is at play here. They're just trying to mess with our heads, leave the message to scare us."

Simmons and I looked at each other, communicating our diagnosis and covering him with a blanket. "We need to get out of here," Fitz pleaded, pointing to the hangar door. Coulson remained statute, calmly replying that our report was the next step.

Simmons gave me look that said, It's your turn for the spotlight.

"He died around 10 hours ago of asphyxiation. A thin wire was used to strangle him, his trachea is crushed, partially sliced through. Based on the angle, the killer was at least 6"2..." I trailed off, throttled with anger.

I was furious at Ward for revealing himself this way. A bloody corpse.

"Ward did this."

Upon hearing this, Fitz lashed out, wrenching apparatus from the bench. Simmons rushed to him as he emptied a bowl of spoons and bashed the fridge, groaning when his fist hit metal.

I couldn't move; it was as if I had lost the ability to. Fitz had been so docile, complacent, this level of fury was unimaginable from him.

If this was how he reacted for Ward, how would he react for me?

"Ok!" Coulson ordered, finally making Fitz calm down, gripping the bench with his rage. "We need to hold it together. All that anger, all that pain; you need to focus it on Skye. She's alive and walked out with someone she knows is a murderer but she's playing him. We have to fix communications, we have to track that plane- can you do that?"

Fitz stood up and nodded.

"Good. If I know Skye she's got a plan, and we'll find her, before Ward figures that out."

~~~

The plan seemed to be working; we found the Bus in Los Angeles and were about to go retrieve Skye but some had triggered Providence's defence mechanism. Which was why we waited around the corner from the hangar door, guns in hand.

"I wish this bunker had a bunker," Simmons sighed as Fitz handed her an icer. Coulson, Trip and I all held decent guns whose proper names escaped me; all that mattered was that they worked.

"This door should hold; it takes some major artillery to make a dent."

"Hangar door deactivated."

"How? That's impossible!" Simmons exclaimed as I loaded the gun. Coulson turned back, telling us to take cover, Trip and I partnering on the left corner; he stood up while I kneeled, aiming my un around him. Our assailants entered and as the thunder of their boots ceased, Coulson whispered, "It's not HYDRA; it's Special Forces," he turned to me, "Kennedy, a little help here?"

"I don't know about that."

A much louder, righteous step sounded, making me squint in order to see who it was; Kernel Glenn Talbot of the US Air Force. He was dressed in an army uniform, without a gun nor helmet. That is to say, that one wouldn't want the helmet to hide that hair cut. Very military style, but not exactly the rest of the world's.

"On behalf of the United States I order you to stand down." Upon hearing him, Coulson peered over, "Talbot? There have to be better things for you to do than this."

"I wasn't a huge fan before chasing you into the damn tundra, Coulson." Not even a minute into the conversation, and the electric political tension was sparking.

Already clammy, my hands gripped my firearm a little more tightly, since not even the Clairvoyant could predict this outcome. Coulson chuckled, "Flattered you came in person." Talbot took a few privileged steps forward, "Fury's private base on North American soil; I had to see it for myself."

"If I come out will you shoot me? Because then I won't come out."

"Hold your fire, soldiers."

The unified sound of the soldiers pulling their guns down brought a sense of satisfaction, like when you organise a desk. "This is 1 of the most classified facilities on the planet, how did you find it?" Coulson asked, leaving his hiding place.

An ominous, "I told them," sounded, and Agent Maria Hill, 2nd in command to Nick Fury entered.

If I wasn't screwed before, I was now.

~~~

"We're not criminals," Simmons protested for the nth time.

Talbot gathered all of us except Hill and Coulson into Providence's living quarter, the soldiers were threaded throughout the room, firearms away for now, but I knew better. Special Forces were just that; special.

Talbot shrugged from the fruit bowl, saying we were fugitives at the least.

"We're not HYDRA. We're agents of S.H.I.E.L.D."

Talbot turned around after choosing a Granny Smith, "While right now to the world, it's the same thing." He took a single bite from the pristine skin; he was such an ass I could feel the apple's pain. Talbot leaned against the table, "Alright, I'll tell you how it'll be. You give me intelligence, and I'll allow you serve time awarded. Your other options are pretty much hell."

Fitz, who'd been staring vacantly at the wood's gloss, stared Talbot down with unforgiving eyes, the eyes of a man who had lost it all, and would do it all to get it back. "Do your worst."

Since discovering Ward's allegiances, the shift in Fitz's demeanour frightened me, here was a man so untainted by the world, whose hand had been forced into a loveless marriage with tragedy.

Once again, I told myself I wouldn't put him through this when my time came.

Simmons scowled, "We've told you of a HYDRA agent; he's getting away. And your intimidation speech is keeping us from saving a fellow agent."

Talbot smirked the smirk of a man who believed all the cards were up his sleeve, that his hostages had no tricks of their own to play.

"Sister you haven't seen intimidation, and right now I'm your only friend. The word 'agent' implies your corrupt organisation still exists. So right now, I'd be thinking hard and fast about what makes you valuable."

I guess it was that final phrase that opened my mouth to stop him. S.H.A.D.O had had enough; it was time for someone to be put in their place.

"Well, Fitz is an engineering genius, he's probably invented things your best haven't thought of. Simmons is also a genius in biochemistry, she could save men in infirmaries that your doctors deem hopeless. And Trip here is the best of both worlds; he knows just as much about guns as he does about science."

Talbot raised his eyebrows at me, shocked at the first words that I had said during the interrogation.

Truth be told, I could get out of this if I wanted to, but I'd blow my cover, and no one wanted Fitz to sink further. But God was it tempting, if only just to land a punch on Talbot's face. Just one. It would be so pleasing, like jumping off a pier on a sweltering afternoon.

"And you, agent?"

"I'm a legacy of Special Forces agents Rose and David Montgomery. I'm trained in martial arts, weaponry and now forensic science. I know how to kill you so no one will be able to identity your corpse or the killer like the back of my hand. You want us on your side, is what I'm saying."

Talbot opened his mouth to speak, but was hit by an icer. Within moments, the rest of Talbot's ensemble were down, indigo forget-me-nots blooming across their bodies.

Shocked, the 4 of us turned to the doorway, and saw Coulson and Hill, icers in hand.

To my surprise, which seemed to be a theme for today, Coulson strode to me first as I asked him what he was doing. He placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed, a gesture he only made with Skye. "Busting us out," Coulson answered, "Run to the plane, now!"

It turned out, Talbot must have lost whatever brains he had left when he got that hair cut.

Apart from those guarding us, there was no remaining soldiers to take care of.

What. An. Idiot.

We got back Skye hours later thanks to Coulson sneaking onto the Bus. I begged to go with him, but once he said it would be illogical to bring 2, I shut up, considering how much Skye meant to both of us.

Of course, I wouldn't tell anyone that, hell, I hadn't even told them my sexual orientation, though they all seemed pretty chill and we had bigger problems than my bisexuality right now.

After picking Skye and Coulson up from LA, we found a small motel and planned on camping out there for however long it took to hatch a plan to get rid of our problems.

The night was calm, almost creepily so. After spending one of the weirdest days of my life, from returning to an abandoned secret base, getting interrogated by a general with the worst haircut, I wanted at least a few minutes of quiet.

Fitz-Simmons sat by the pool, submerging their ankles and talking softly, Trip leaned against the vending machine grinning smugly at a packet of junk food as if he'd gone hunting for it while Skye and Coulson sat by a plastic table set. I stood by the apartment door, working up the courage to enter the room and grab my files.

Because through all this, I hadn't gotten round to reading them.

Not only was I the queen of assassination, I was the queen of procrastination too.

Finally saying screw it to the questions of 'do you want to know the truth?' and 'Why are you so scared?' I twisted the knob and slammed the door behind me, completely forgetting that Maria freaking Hill was still inside.

Crap. Crap. Mega crap.

"Agent Hill." She turned to fully face me, her surprise replaced by the cool reflection of annoyance, through the skin of her cheek I noticed her tongue stroke the inside of her mouth. Hill seemed a little too serious, for my tastes anyway.

"Agent Montgomery," she answered, "Those were some moves you pulled out there, May taught you well." Inside my brain, I cringed. Maria Hill heard me verbally kick Talbot's ass, something I didn't want to get around. "Actually, I had some lessons outside of S.H.I.E.L.D."

Maria blinked, noticing the change in subject. "What type?" I finally gained the courage to make my way to the bag containing my files, I shrugged as I lifted them, "My parents were Special Forces; basically the works."

I knew Hill was going to be curious about a recruit researching, so it wasn't a surprise when she asked so.

With my hands that much more damp thanks to thee anxiety of holding the truth, which I hoped I already knew, I passed it off as, "Just a bunch of files." Hill held out her hand, and I placed them in her hands, knowing they never got any footage of me, so there was no way she'd see a photo and freak. She flicked through a few pages, noticed who, or what, I was reading about and handed them back- they felt heavier.

"S.H.A.D.O? Why are you reading those files?"

Placing the file against my thighs, my knuckles paled to chalky yellow. "Curiosity? If there's one thing my parents taught me, its I need to know my enemy." Hill readjusted her feet's position, boots softly booming on the carpet.

"S.H.A.D.O hasn't been active in several months," she stated like a teacher close to retirement, "My guess; they're dead or dying. Normally we have a monthly death. A 3 month dry spell means something's up."

I didn't know whether I should feel honoured someone as skilled as Maria Hill kept track of my missions or horrified for the breach in privacy.

After I decided to finish gaping like a clown I managed to choke out, "You keep up on them?"

What did a girl have to do to do her homework? I just wanted to read files, and yet so many obstacles had come in my way. Hill shrugged, and began to make her way out of the room, "Like you said it's important to know your enemy. Keep those habits." I replied with my thanks, finally sitting on the bed, opening the file and read.

And what I found was different than what I had been taught.