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When Grant sees Garrett being led out in handcuffs, he knows the time has come.
He lets his team-mates think his shock is from learning that his supervising officer is a traitor, and not from the sudden terror that floods his stomach at the thought of what he must do now. It threatens to unman him.
He has never experienced fear like this before a mission. But this is no ordinary mission, and he’s never really had anything to fear for. Nothing waiting for him when he got back. Until her.
His eyes find hers, and he sees his fear and dread mirrored in them. But there is also overwhelming love – for him – and, somehow, that steadies him.
He asks to go with Agent Hand to ensure Garrett is locked away forever, knowing that that wouldn’t be how it would play out, that he will be responsible for many innocent deaths and much pain and chaos in the coming days. But he can dwell on that later. He has two hours before they leave for the Fridge, and he cannot deny himself those precious minutes in her arms any more than he can deny her. He needs her.
They slip away quietly, unnoticed by anyone, and he takes her to the Bus, to where they began, in discrete touches and stolen kisses and falling hearts and deep, deep love.
Then she is in his arms and her lips are on his, and he wonders how her touch can be so soothing and so inciting at the same time. He burns for her, and he deepens the kiss, and loses himself in her.
He has no memory of how they make it to his bunk – he thinks it’s his bunk. He thinks he carried her there. But there is a bed, and they fall into it together, and she is beneath him, arching up against him as he presses his mouth to her throat and marks her as his.
Her skin is like fuel to his fire, and he wants to possess every inch of her, to set her ablaze so that she burns for him just as he burns for her.
“Grant!”
The way she says his name – part plea, part gasp, part throaty moan – has the need clawing at his insides.
“Jemma.” He’s drowning, and he doesn’t care. All he wants is to take her with him, into that endless, headlong fall where there is only him and her and forever.
“Jemma.” It’s a desperate prayer. She’s the only light in the darkness, the only anchor in the storm. She is his sanctuary.
She holds him as tightly, as desperately, as he holds her. She doubts she could let go even if she had to – and for a fleeting moment, wonders where she will find the courage to stand back and let him walk away from her when the time comes.
She aches for him, for the acts he will have to commit before the mission is over. For the pain and the shame and the blood and the guilt that he will carry with him for the rest of his life as a result.
But right now, he needs her, and Jemma will give Grant whatever and how much ever he needs to take from her. She is his, far more than he can ever imagine – but she thinks he knows, because she knows he feels the same way.
When he takes her over, she takes him with her, as deep, as far away as possible from his demons – past, present and future, from the darkness that yawns before them.
The moment stretches infinitely, pure and full, and there is nothing and no one but Grant.
When they come back, Grant’s breathing is harsh and as uneven as hers, and Jemma can feel the hammer of his heart against hers. He presses his face to the curve of her neck and places a tender kiss at the same spot where he marked her. She slides her fingers through his hair and holds him to her.
All too soon it is time for him to go. They dress quietly, not taking their eyes off each other. When Grant takes Jemma in his arms and kisses her, she kisses him back, gives him everything. This is what he will take with him.
She is the only one apart from Coulson to see him off when he leaves. She ignores Coulson’s quizzical look, and stays strong, even when Grant turns around to look at her one last time. Then, he is gone.