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Mar. 16th, 2015 08:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ingrantitude[Ward doesn't like the idea of "transferring custody" of agent 33 to them. This is for her benefit not for any other reason. She's a threat to herself and she deserves...what? She deserves to have a part of her soul back. A part of herself back and he would have brought her back sooner except...
Except before, before Everything he had been desperate, lonely and scared and she somehow had come through all of the pain and horror that HYDRA (and himself, he admitted that. By being a part of HYDRA he was responsible) had put her through to emerge as a decent person who had encouraged him to help SHIELD out after...
He's been shot before. Nearly died before. Nothing like this. Something punctures his chest and he slams to the ground with a gasp and there's nothing - nothing but a swirling inky dark and a voice out of the void.
Son.
His father is a non-entity, a thing that does not exist a thing that shall not be - a cold and cruel politician who kills when he can't get caught just like his son but this...this thing is old and he knows it. Blood calls to blood.
My son.
He returns from the dead with two bullet holes in his chest and only her to lead him out as firmly as she can. You came back. That's what needed to happen.
Except he feels different, felt different, and that's when his connections and hers revealed the ether. The astral plane. While others ran roughshod towards the stars something had lurked alongside mankind for centuries. Not creatures from another planet but creatures from another dimension entirely. They call themselves worshippers of Dormammu. A demon (Demon? Please. Extra-dimensional being.) and his mother had apparently offered up her soul and his father's for political power and personal gain. all the Wards had done it.
That was then and this is now however. Grant Ward, son of Caroline Gracelaw-Ward and the demon Dormammu (apparently not the only one in the family either). Grant Ward who's propensity to burn had been a biological instinct. One made easier thanks to that which he'd taken as his codename. Hellfire.
The thing was, demons (extra-dimensional beings) are not kind. He can still shoot (hell if he plays his cards right he can shoot hellfire out of his damn gun) but he can't run a mile in another person's shoes and his search to find out his true parentage has left some of his skills to rust but in the end when you can light things on fire with your mind (demonic fire, fire that burns only who you want it to burn) does it really matter?
He shouldn't have given himself a name.
He shouldn't have. It was a gag, a joke, but he worked for HYDRA and he paid the price - the one person who had never judged him was fighting for her life upstairs and facing a long and painful road to recovery and for what? Trying to repair some of the damage he'd done? Hey Grant go and get yourself some powers now you can maybe help out and ...what? Make it easier to sleep better at night? Stop dreaming of Fitzsimmons? Garrett with his hands covered in blood? wandering through SHIELD's hallways listening to Buddy howl?
He has helped. They both have. Helped and vanished into the night and over time (It's been years) the pain has lessened and people don't greet him with "Ward!" and guns. Coulson doesn't forgive. He doesn't say anything but he does let him do his thing and Ward doesn't look back while he takes 33's arm and they run off into the night. It's almost fun fighting beside Skye again.
The irony of it all was sickening. Hilarious. Skye who had been the newcomer teaching him, insisting that he learned control. His agreement, his pulse quickening when she'd come close before pulling away and agreeing to submit himself to this under the condition that he be allowed to assist. Never mind it was getting worse. Never mind that the things he'd done when he was angry were coming back to haunt him.
And so he writes. He writes down everything he can remember about Madame HYDRA. Everything he can remember about the serpant society, about Modok and AIM, everything that he can think of from that all too brief time he spent as a mercenary before he returned - through a trial by fire - to SHIELD. In his quest he'd encountered people shield KNEW. People he considers appealing to now since he's been told the following:
He can't help until he learns control.
Once he learns control he'll be allowed to leave.
He doesn't believe that one iota but he has to wonder if it was purely because he insisted on not taking 33 with him. She needed help, medical help, mental help and Madame HYDRA's shot through the heart - he was literally to blame.
(You give love a bad name Grant ward)
This is an alliance of convenience not support. He plays it in his head and wonders if maybe it couldn't have gone differently if he'd been honest about Garrett in the first place.
That makes him want to weep. Weep and give in to the ancient emotion in his blood. That disconnect between reality and a deep abiding desire to retreat from humanity and burn this place to the ground.
He can't do that.
What he can do is pace his room (they've given him his old cell but this time there's a book on a table and he has to wonder who left it there, Charles Dickens "Bleak House") there's a pen and paper but being down there with Skye has driven home just how much of a monster he's become. He can't say nuhuman. He's something older. Something he wonders if Strange really understood, if SHIELD really wanted to help.
That makes him stop and stare at the woman who's entered, quietly. He stops pacing, dropping his hands at the sides. If he makes one wrong move the place will be doused with chemical foam.]
...This is literally the last thing I ever expected.
[Except then - because he has to wonder-]
...33.
[Is she still alive. Is she all right.]
Except before, before Everything he had been desperate, lonely and scared and she somehow had come through all of the pain and horror that HYDRA (and himself, he admitted that. By being a part of HYDRA he was responsible) had put her through to emerge as a decent person who had encouraged him to help SHIELD out after...
He's been shot before. Nearly died before. Nothing like this. Something punctures his chest and he slams to the ground with a gasp and there's nothing - nothing but a swirling inky dark and a voice out of the void.
Son.
His father is a non-entity, a thing that does not exist a thing that shall not be - a cold and cruel politician who kills when he can't get caught just like his son but this...this thing is old and he knows it. Blood calls to blood.
My son.
He returns from the dead with two bullet holes in his chest and only her to lead him out as firmly as she can. You came back. That's what needed to happen.
Except he feels different, felt different, and that's when his connections and hers revealed the ether. The astral plane. While others ran roughshod towards the stars something had lurked alongside mankind for centuries. Not creatures from another planet but creatures from another dimension entirely. They call themselves worshippers of Dormammu. A demon (Demon? Please. Extra-dimensional being.) and his mother had apparently offered up her soul and his father's for political power and personal gain. all the Wards had done it.
That was then and this is now however. Grant Ward, son of Caroline Gracelaw-Ward and the demon Dormammu (apparently not the only one in the family either). Grant Ward who's propensity to burn had been a biological instinct. One made easier thanks to that which he'd taken as his codename. Hellfire.
The thing was, demons (extra-dimensional beings) are not kind. He can still shoot (hell if he plays his cards right he can shoot hellfire out of his damn gun) but he can't run a mile in another person's shoes and his search to find out his true parentage has left some of his skills to rust but in the end when you can light things on fire with your mind (demonic fire, fire that burns only who you want it to burn) does it really matter?
He shouldn't have given himself a name.
He shouldn't have. It was a gag, a joke, but he worked for HYDRA and he paid the price - the one person who had never judged him was fighting for her life upstairs and facing a long and painful road to recovery and for what? Trying to repair some of the damage he'd done? Hey Grant go and get yourself some powers now you can maybe help out and ...what? Make it easier to sleep better at night? Stop dreaming of Fitzsimmons? Garrett with his hands covered in blood? wandering through SHIELD's hallways listening to Buddy howl?
He has helped. They both have. Helped and vanished into the night and over time (It's been years) the pain has lessened and people don't greet him with "Ward!" and guns. Coulson doesn't forgive. He doesn't say anything but he does let him do his thing and Ward doesn't look back while he takes 33's arm and they run off into the night. It's almost fun fighting beside Skye again.
The irony of it all was sickening. Hilarious. Skye who had been the newcomer teaching him, insisting that he learned control. His agreement, his pulse quickening when she'd come close before pulling away and agreeing to submit himself to this under the condition that he be allowed to assist. Never mind it was getting worse. Never mind that the things he'd done when he was angry were coming back to haunt him.
And so he writes. He writes down everything he can remember about Madame HYDRA. Everything he can remember about the serpant society, about Modok and AIM, everything that he can think of from that all too brief time he spent as a mercenary before he returned - through a trial by fire - to SHIELD. In his quest he'd encountered people shield KNEW. People he considers appealing to now since he's been told the following:
He can't help until he learns control.
Once he learns control he'll be allowed to leave.
He doesn't believe that one iota but he has to wonder if it was purely because he insisted on not taking 33 with him. She needed help, medical help, mental help and Madame HYDRA's shot through the heart - he was literally to blame.
(You give love a bad name Grant ward)
This is an alliance of convenience not support. He plays it in his head and wonders if maybe it couldn't have gone differently if he'd been honest about Garrett in the first place.
That makes him want to weep. Weep and give in to the ancient emotion in his blood. That disconnect between reality and a deep abiding desire to retreat from humanity and burn this place to the ground.
He can't do that.
What he can do is pace his room (they've given him his old cell but this time there's a book on a table and he has to wonder who left it there, Charles Dickens "Bleak House") there's a pen and paper but being down there with Skye has driven home just how much of a monster he's become. He can't say nuhuman. He's something older. Something he wonders if Strange really understood, if SHIELD really wanted to help.
That makes him stop and stare at the woman who's entered, quietly. He stops pacing, dropping his hands at the sides. If he makes one wrong move the place will be doused with chemical foam.]
...This is literally the last thing I ever expected.
[Except then - because he has to wonder-]
...33.
[Is she still alive. Is she all right.]
