Chapter Text
This is the opposite of what they wanted, it was always on the table but now it seemed the only solution to a very frightening problem. Grant had to go on a deep cover mission, and while this wouldn’t have been a problem before he joined the team, it was a problem now. His involvement with Jemma had been filed and it was proving to be the only black mark on his perfect record and in order for this mission to work, it had to end.
Grant Ward had to defect from SHIELD, and he had to do it as violently, publicly, and with as much fanfare as he could muster, the idea as explained at the Hub was that if he could be good enough to fool Agent Hand, then he could be back on the bus in three months time without a problem. Naturally, it was above Jemma’s clearance level so Grant couldn’t explain it to her, even when he’d fought for a solid two hours with Coulson, advocating to put her in the loop.
Jemma was the best part of Grant’s new life and when he allowed himself to consider his future, she was in it. His quarters were packed, the plane had landed just outside Dublin for the evening, and the younger agents knew something was off. Grant promised himself that when he got back, Jemma would know everything, and that he’d spend years making sure he fixed what he was about to do with her. Barely able to keep himself steady, Grant knocked on her door, leaving his bag just outside.
"Jemma, it’s me. I know it’s late, but we need to talk."
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It had been 2 months, 3 weeks, 4 days, and 7 hours since Grant had left, not that anybody would willingly admit to keeping track. Not only had he left, but he'd gone completely dark. The only news the younger agents got was by way of Fitz, who had gotten more pragmatic since Agent Ward had left. Fitz, by Skye's instructions, had gotten a lock on Grant's location, but how they'd found it was shocking. Agents left on missions all the time, but Grant hadn't just left. Grant was gone, he wasn't coming back. After he left them, he had taken out the whole intelligence division of the Dublin satellite office, and on orders from The Hub, he was a marked man. Jemma had needed two days to pull herself together, which had been a shorter recovery time than anyone had expected, but Fitz and Skye had taken to treating her like a very fragile and valuable piece of porcelain and she was beginning to resent it. She knew Coulson and May weren't aware that the three of them knew about the nature of Grant's defection, but she had to wonder when they'd inform them officially.
Watching him walk out hadn't hurt, not as much as she thought it would when they'd first gotten together. The risks that came with the job meant that she'd gotten used to watching Grant walk out, so him telling her they were through wasn't a serious shock. It had been more trying than any other break up she'd been through but the extraordinary circumstances of their situation were probably to blame. What had hurt was that after the initial shock wore off and she had managed to sleep, he wasn't at the breakfast table when she woke up, then Coulson had told her personally that Agent Ward would not be coming back and that the team would be wheels up in an hour, bound for Rome. He couldn't be properly gone, he would never just leave and not say anything, prickly as he might be, Grant would never leave and not tell her. The nasty little voice that had taken up residence in her head since the start of their relationship whispered that he had left her, and then he had left the team, he had no personal connections and no need for them. She had never really mattered, she was never important, and she no longer had a reason to be hopeful that he'd change his mind.
Grant was gone, he would be dead soon if he wasn't already, SHIELD would make sure of that. The explosion in Dublin had been an international headline, and Jemma had never been so sick in her life. There wasn't a reason for him to leave, and there would never be a reason for him to kill a building full of people, he carried too much guilt over his past mistakes to think of risking or harming an innocent life. The voice in her head came back, saying that nobody employed by SHIELD was innocent, and certainly not those in intelligence, but it didn't help. Throwing herself into her work, Jemma tried to bury the part of her that hoped he would be back, that maybe it was a joke, or maybe a mission he couldn't tell her about, but no, even on his worst day Grant would never kill someone if he didn't have to. Best that she continued waking up, getting through her day, and ignoring the stares she was getting from Fitz and Skye, if she ignored them, she could ignore how raw she felt inside and then maybe it would go away because this was no way to live.
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Coulson wouldn't ever personally qualify himself as a good man, he'd seen and done too much to ever be a truly good man. He was merely a man who was good at his job, and it wasn't a nice job to have. Grant's deployment had gone off beautifully, and the embedded press at the Hub had circulated the story about Dublin beautifully, with agents on hand to ensure it was as realistic as possible. Watching his team slowly try to pull themselves back together was making him sick, and it was overwhelming any pride he felt in Grant's thoroughness and commitment to his mission. Skye had stopped with her constant stream of chipper questions, walking around like a child with a deflated balloon, Fitz was barely keeping a lid on a whole volcano full of anger, not just at Grant but at the whole of the situation and what it was doing to Jemma, and Jemma was taking it the hardest of all, carrying on like there hadn't been a change, and like there wasn't a hole to be filled or even acknowledged as empty. Coulson and May had been briefed in full along with Grant and they'd been given the same timeline, he would be home soon and they were bound for The Hub, ready to debrief him and ensure that he was re-acclimatized safely.
Coulson had a word with Grant before he went to Jemma, and for Coulson the most painful part was seeing just how much the idea of leaving her was hurting the younger man. He wasn't just leaving, for all intents and purposes, he'd be dead and if everything was done right, even Skye and Fitz wouldn't be able to find out just what he'd been assigned. Sitting at his desk, he opened a drawer and took out a small black box, opening it and staring at the emptiness of it, his chest aching. He'd shown Grant the box, a personal keepsake of his, before his departure' and the understanding that passed between them had been non-verbal but crystal clear. Once Grant was back, and the team had re-adjusted, Coulson dearly hoped the contents of the box would get some use. He recalled the conversation they had during the second Peterson mission, about love and it's place in their line of work, and how maybe if Coulson's cellist had belonged to the agency that they could work. It wouldn't work for Coulson, but watching the other agent square his shoulders and breathe, attempting to quell his emotions, as he walked out of Coulson's office had Coulson praying that once this was all over, that it would work for Grant. The contents of the box had gone with Grant when he left, as a reminder of his motivation to come back safely, and of just what he could have in front of him should his mission be successful. Sentiment wasn't doing him any good, but Grant would need a reason to stay strong and Coulson had given it to him.
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Grant hated the Hub, it was all white tile and bureaucracy, vacant of humanity in any form, the room he'd been stashed in was soulless and depressing even if it was thankfully temporary. He'd done his job, and Agent Hand had been pleased, she'd been overseeing his progress personally and helped facilitate the extraction personally. Trying his best to ignore the pit in his stomach as he cleaned himself up, his thoughts wandered back to the gift Coulson had given him before he left. It had burned a hole in his pocket every second since then, and he feared that the thing might just catch fire soon. He'd be seeing everyone in an hour or so, and for the first time Grant wanted to run and he never wanted to look back. Leaving the team had been one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do, even if he knew he'd be back, and seeing Jemma's face as he broke her heart had left him sick inside. Seeing her again would be far more difficult than every single mission he had under his belt. When the call came for Grant to go in for his full debriefing, he took what little he had brought with him and he left, wondering just how long it would take before he'd be forgiven.
Coulson had been the first to spot him, nodding in acknowledgment, May second, giving him the most severe glare he'd ever experienced, and Skye who'd been intently watching May saw him third, all the blood drained from her face, anger radiating off of her even from across the room. Fitz saw him and for a moment, Grant was more afraid of him than he'd been of every armed thug he'd ever come across, the young engineer looked murderous and it was only barely masking his disbelief. Jemma was last, and she was the picture of professionalism, all poise and grace. Grant wondered if she'd come to hate him in his absence and realized just how much easier it would be if she did. He'd be grateful for her hatred because it would mean that he couldn't touch her again, she wouldn't let him. Any power Grant thought he had over Jemma's heart was gone, showing no sign of ever appearing. The small object in Grant's pocket was weighing him down, now more than ever with Jemma in the room.
The room they'd been given was reasonably private, and Grant was positive it was soundproof, he wondered if that had been at Coulson's insistence, knowing his team and knowing Fitz' tendency toward the obscene when enraged. Skye was the first to come over, and the punch she landed across Grant's jaw stunned him, rattling his teeth and causing him to stumble sideways into one of the chairs placed about the room. The yelling that immediately followed was far and away the most pleasant sound he'd heard in almost three months. Fit gently placed his hands on Skye's shoulders, shifting her aside to stand in front of Grant. His words were harsh, and they fell on Grant like landing blows. Fitz was unfailingly honest, and his discretion had been sorely tested. Grant could tell that Fitz was dying to hit him but Fitz was more adept at emotional manipulation than at physical combat. May and Coulson were standing off to the side, watching the younger agents have their say, patiently waiting for Jemma's reaction.
When Jemma's time came, she met Grant's gaze and simply congratulated him on the completion of his mission in such a thorough manner. Her tone was even, her posture straight, and every fiber of her being entirely in Agent mode. Grant had expected nothing less but the wave of pain that washed over him faced with her indifference nearly bore him to the ground.
The six of them, once again six, all left with Grant trailing behind the others, his hand in his pocket with the gift laying cool and smooth against his fingers. Skye's savage tirade had exhausted her and she'd gone to her room for the evening, Grant knew he'd have to work with her to win her over again but that it'd be the least difficult of all of them. He'd never had a sister, but Skye was the closest he had and her level of understanding when it came to unpleasant necessities might ease the transition. Fitz had kept a watchful eye on Jemma, guiding her to her room before informing Grant that if he even considered going to her door, that Fitz would make sure he wouldn't make it through the evening. Fitz had grown in Grant's absence and the young man's strength of character was more present now than ever, he wasn't tentative in his words, he was direct and fearless. He couldn't help but be proud, but he fervently hoped that it wasn't solely his abrupt departure that had brought it about.
Despite the seriousness of Fitz' warning, and the certainty of tone, Grant found himself outside Jemma's room and before he could knock, the door opened. She was sitting on her bed, still in her day clothes, looking just as poised as she had earlier. "Well, come in. Stand there any longer and one of the dwarves will shoot you. Fitz re-calibrated them before the de-briefing. If you've anything to say for yourself, I suggest you do it quickly. I'm tired and I have work that needs doing so I can't be up late." Grant stepped inside, and the door shut with a hiss, he took his hand out of his pocket, the object he'd carried with him since he was last in this room in his hand.
"I'm going to spare you the stupidity of everything I had planned on saying, and i'll say this instead, then you can sleep. Jemma, I want you to marry me. I want you to marry me because I realized that I don't ever want to have to lie to you again, and I never want to spend another day or night without you. If you say no, that's fine. I've earned it, and i'll move on, we can even pretend that we were never together if it's what you want. But please, before you kick me out and have me shot, know that this was the last deep cover mission i'll ever had to run. I might not have a lot of pull, but I made sure that once I came back to you, that I'd never have to leave again. Hurting you was unfortunately all a part of what was necessary and I never want to see you hurt by anyone again, least of all by me. I love you and because I love you I won't beg, i'll do what you need." Grant said, opening his palm, and showing her the ring Coulson had intended to give his cellist, instead giving it to Grant to make use of. Jemma's face was unreadable, but she hadn't thrown him out just yet and that was promising.
"If you ever presume to leave me again Grant Ward I will find you, kill you, and make sure there is nothing left of your body. If you want me to say yes, you're going to need to work for it. I love you, but i'm going to need time. you're sensible enough to know that. You can stay here tonight if you like, and honestly i'd like it if you would, but you won't get your answer. I understood when we got together that this was always a possibility but for all I knew you were dead and every day I had to wonder if you were gone and buried somewhere on SHIELD's orders. Right now I genuinely wish you were because it would hurt less. Put the ring away, take off your shoes, and turn off the light. I'm tired, i've missed you, and we'll talk in the morning." Jemma said, her eyes wet but her expression still stoic. Grant did as he was told, slipping his shoes off and sitting down next to her, turning off the lamp on her bedside table, letting the ring sit on the table in the dark.
Jemma stretched out, too exhausted to change, and Grant sat leaning against the wall, happier now than he'd been for weeks. He never expected a happy reunion, but this was so much better than he'd hoped. He was home, and Jemma was letting him stay, her hand taking one of his own, resting in his lap. He'd sit up all night, just allowing himself to be with her again and that was fine. He promised himself he'd work every day to make sure they could be happy together and now he'd be able to start.